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[withered-pages-blog]

The Taste of Iron 1/? (Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker Imagine)

(A/N: I’m an on and off kind of blog I think but I’m definitely not abandoned and neither are any of my unfinished works but I’m a self-indulgent person so here’s a Star Wars imagine ayeeeimsorryeee.)

The taste of iron was so familiar to you, so constant that sometimes you wondered if it was a permanent stain on your tongue, on the roof of your mouth. A lot of emotions accompanied that taste, the taste of blood. Fear, anger, submission, humiliation and the cycle continued without an end in sight.

The first time you could recount that metallic taste in your mouth was when you were eleven years old. Your long, dirty braids were wrapped in the fist of a man you’d never seen until that day, the blood of your parents smearing from his gloved hand into your hair. He taunted you, this man, dragging you from the old hut that now blazed with light. Your father and uncle had made it together with their bare hands, it was the hut you were born in.

You couldn’t be sure now that the years had passed but at the time of the attack, your mother’s horrendous scream was slowly muffled by the flames barely tickled your red ears. Clutching at the leather-bound hand in your hair and flailing frantically, you pleaded in a tongue that the man didn’t understand. He threw you into the sand alongside other children, some you recognized from your village and others from neighboring ones.

Hands clutched you as soon as you were thrown into the crowd of traumatized children, none over the age of fifteen. The oldest shielded the youngest and you found yourself huddling with complete strangers, the only thing in common was your hair. All long, all braided with small twigs, adorned by flowers and old tattered cloth. A trait of your people.

You didn’t understand what any of the shouting men in white were saying and it was terrifying, they’d come out of the sky in birds of steel and wreaked havoc over your village, tearing down huts in search of any children and murdering anyone who stood in their way. Even people who fled in fear were killed and now was a perfect example. The men in white pointed their weapons at you, the group and shouted orders at you, orders you couldn’t understand. Only after learning their tongue, English, could you translate the memories.

“Single file, all of you!” One commanded and you stared through glassy eyes up at him. His dark visor made it impossible for you to understand any kind of gesture he was making and you stayed perfectly still. A mortified gasp caught your attention, an older child reaching out as a younger one was torn from his arms, a boy you recognized as he stood up intent on protecting the smaller villager.

T'kor, a boy a year older than you but seemingly feet taller. He was a boy loved by the warriors of your village, constantly praised for his natural talents in combat. Three long scars stretched across his dark face, from his hairline to his chin on the left side of his head had him looking beyond his years and perhaps that was why the men in white did what they did in the following moments. With a loud, sharp sound accompanied with a flash of green light, T'kor was on the ground in a heap, moaning in pain as he clutched his broad sholulder. The blaster wielded by the man in white pointed it at his head and that flash of green light ended his brief cries.

You couldn’t remember much after that, every sound became one and every image did too. Colours grouped together as one by one, young villagers were executed, the oldest died and the younger huddled around them, their elder siblings, cousins and friends, mourning briefly before they too were shot down.

You didn’t know you’d been screaming until a sharp slap to your face silenced you, and that’s when you tasted it. A foreign, intense taste that you cringed at.

Footsteps circled you in an almost rhythmic sense and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up, knowing it was you who’d been last.

There were no more cries, there was no more shouting and there was no more fighting. Just the distant sound of your home burning and that awful taste on your tongue. Quivering, you heard voices that seemed authoritative but intimidating that only grew less patient and more frightening.

In the moments to come you found yourself looking into the eyes of the man who’d dragged you into this chaotic mess, out of the safety of your mother’s arms and into the cold. His bright red hair and pale blue eyes were the first thing you noticed but they were soon forgotten in favor of his horrible sneer.

“I said kneel.” He forced you onto your knees before taking a step back, a man in white taking his place and taking up all of your sight. His blood-stained armour surrounded the barrel of his weapon and you instantly began crying, a loud, ugly cry that you couldn’t stop no matter how much you tried. Their angry shouts only fueled your fear and even when he struck you with the back of his hand, you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

It seemed to go on forever when the soldier aimed at you again and you reached out, begging to be spared as that soft green light formed in front of your eyes, the same green light that killed T'kor and every other child that now lay motionless around you.

You didn’t have time to beg further and your ears couldn’t pick up that sharp sound like it had when you watched everyone else around you be murdered helplessly. Your suffering had ended and you were pulled into the dark.

This was for the blink of an eye as you weren’t so lucky. A soft, sickly rasp roused you from that merciful darkness and instantly you felt pain like nothing else ever imagined in your small mind. Your head pounded with a ferocity that had you wanting to cry but when tears formed, your eyes quivered inside their sockets.

You couldn’t hear or see anything for a while, but slowly those senses returned to you and your eyes, swollen after the abuse you’d endured opened as much as the tender flesh surrounding them would allow.

You’d have screamed if you could as the sight of a man, the same man that had ordered your death was raised by some unseen force into the air. His gloved hand that once tore hair from your scalp were now scratching helplessly at his neck, nails digging deep into pale flesh.

“Let this be a lesson,” a deep, unnatural voice said, “to question me is to question the Empire.” With a sickening snap, the man’s flailing legs fell limp but his body didn’t. It stayed high above ground as if on display.

“Secure the area.”

With that, the men in white and spanned out across the village and their birds of steel disappeared into the sky in a search for what you understood later to be survivors. The red-haired man was released from whatever had killed him and he fell to the ground in a crumpled mess, his face landing inches from yours.

You stared into his cold, dead eyes and felt something swell deep inside of you, something you knew was somehow wrong, but still rejuvenating. A fire burned deep, deep down in your belly and you found your swollen lips curling into something akin to a smile.

“I sense your anger.” Through deep, artificial breaths, the voice that had tormented your tormentor now addressed you. “I sense your power.”

“My Lord?” A man in white questioned, though it didn’t reach your ears. You were busy taking in all the details of the dead man’s face, not even noticing the gigantic black figure that seemed to glide towards you. His skin, smooth and pale now bloated like yours, his jaw that clenched angrily at you now hanging open in an eternal gag for air.

He looked hideous, hideous like the people he’d killed brutally and you reveled in that, you reveled knowing he suffered a death just as terrible as the innocents that populated your village.

The bittersweet feeling in your chest was growing so intense that you felt the heat from your stomach expand, filling you up and swallowing you whole before it was all too much, and the familiar dark took you again, this time you hoped forever, any other sensation becoming irrelevant to you.

“Bring the child.”

[withered-pages-blog]

Liar 14/? (Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort Imagine)

(A/N: Are you excited to have Matt as your Professor because I SURE AM OKAY.)

Your morning was going surprisingly well despite the events the night prior. Not once did you hear a single peep from any of your Slytherin housemates or anyone else for that matter, for the most part, people ignored you as best they could while you sat at the end of the house table.

But still, you dreaded it more and more as the hours ticked away, classes passed and you had two left for the day. Charms, which you had no problem with, and Care of Magical Creatures. You hoped you wouldn't see Sterling there, but considering he'd apparently visited you in the hospital wing, you probably would.

The thought made you anxious and soon you could feel moisture forming on your face, limbs feeling heavy and light all at once. You were careful not to make eye contact with anyone, eyes forward, back straight, face hard - you wanted to appear stronger than you were currently feeling and from the looks or lack of looks you were receiving it was working just fine. That, or you'd gone back to being irrelevant to the rest of the school.

Charms was something you didn't really struggle with but conjuring like the rest of your students was. You struggled tremendously to conjure objects and failed every practical test you'd been given, only passing the class because it was the only thing you lacked. Slipping into a seat unnoticed in the back of the classroom, you waited as other students came in and out of the room until your whole class was present and organized.

Arms folded in on your desk, you rested your head between them and closed your eyes for about a fraction of a second before a thundering crack landed right next to your ear and you nearly jumped through the ceiling, eyes wild and frantic, blood rushing to your ears and muscles stiff as a board.

"No sleeping in my class, Y/N." Tutted Professor Brook, his hand wrapped around an old pointer. You looked up at the man and took a long breath before nodding, "Sorry, sir."

The man hummed as he passed, twirling that old stick between his fingers mindlessly as he began to speak. You tried to zone out for the majority of the quirky professor's class but each time you did, he'd bring you right back in with the call of your name. "Y/N, would you like to demonstrate?"

Blinking rapidly and clutching the sides of your chair, you slowly nodded. "Sir?" The brunette smiled at you, "We're revisiting some spells from last year's class, if you remember," his voice was playful and light which helped calm your nerves. You never did like being picked out of a crowd.

"Levitation being one of them." Professor Brook winked at you as you rose from your seat, retrieving your want from your robe pocket and clearing your throat, "Yes, sir."

Squinting your eyes and scanning the room, you raised your wand and with a gentle swish and flick, recited your incantation. "Wingardium leviosa."

A pile of books rattled before rising from one of the front desks in the class, loose pages gliding about carelessly as you continued to hold your spell. For a moment, Professor Brook just stared at you before a broad smile crept across his thin lips ."Very well done, Y/N. I didn't think you payed much attention."

Snorting, you spoke up, "Didn't we learn this in our first year, sir? Why are we revisiting the easy spells?" A few students joined in on your laughter, jokingly demanding harder charms from behind their desks.

"You'd like a harder one, then? Alright," the brunette pursed his lips in thought before clapping his hands together and he kicked a small foot stool from beneath his desk into sight, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. "Bit small for me."

You blinked at your professor and he blinked back at you tauntingly before your lips formed a small 'o' and you smiled, "Engorgio." Your wand pointed, the wooden stool began to grow in side until it was about the same size as a regular desk chair and Professor Brook smiled at you, "Very good."

Ego swelling, you smirked and straightened your back, feeling much more confident than you had at the beginning of the class. "Give me another?"

"I think you should think of this one. Come on, something fancier, Y/N." Brows furrowed in thought, you flipped through the pages in your mind until you found something that you found particularly difficult in your third year and took you multiple practical lessons to actually get mastered.

Arm outstretched and wand pointed carefully, you called clearly at that irritating pointer that your teacher tormented you with, "Carpe retractum."

With the motion of a whip, the pointer came flying towards you until it was pointed menacingly at your face, inches away. You blushed as the class laughed at you, "Do be careful."

"You've proven me wrong so far, but I have something much more difficult for you, Y/N. Last one if you can pull it off," Brook joked, leaning back in his chair, "I'm sure it's difficult dozing off in my classes while I'm speaking. Wouldn't it be much easier to sleep if I were being quiet?"

You blinked, "You want me to - "

"Silence me, yes." He flashed you that same playful smile and you shook your head, "Sir, I couldn't."

Professor Brook leaned forward and placed his hands on his desk, "Couldn't as in you're incapable, Y/N? You can't cast this spell?" He taunted and you frowned, "Of course I can."

"Then do it."

You bit your quivering lip and raised your wand to your teacher, your professor. This felt so wrong and you felt as if you were somehow disrespecting the man by even considering this. Your arm felt weighed down as you clumsily waved your wand and as you parted your lips to speak, you thought of Abraxas. You thought of being cornered by him in the library, being silenced and being attacked - it scared you, which effected your magic.

"Silencio." You muttered, barely even moving your wand at all. Nothing happened, of course, not even a pathetic little fzzz. Just nothing.

Professor Brook frowned lightly at you, "Again. With feeling, this time."

The brunette stood and with the wave of his hand, his pointer returned to his side, tapping random things on his desk as he spoke. "Blah blah blah," he droned sarcastically, "boring boring boring."

"Silencio." You flicked your wand harder this time, but still nothing happened and the man continued to speak, though he motioned for you to go on.

"Silencio," you felt heat rise in your chest as you motioned again and again at the man, about to speak again when you were interrupted by the old bell at the top of the castle.

Students filtered out of the room without the permission of Brook but he barely noticed as his eyes were on you - you, the usually unfazed Slytherin that sat alone at the end of your House table at meals and announcements and at the back of class, tucked away from prying eyes.

He knew something was wrong, even if he didn't know you as well as he knew others. Brook did tend to favor the more popular students, the more gifted and as you were neither, the only time he took the time to notice you at all was when you slept during his class. Which was always.

Slumping into your seat and sighing in defeat, you began gathering your things when Professor Brook approached, sitting in the empty seat next to you. "Y/N," he started, voice now void of any playful hint at all, "I've seen you cast that charm many times."

You sighed, "I'm just tired today, Professor. I'll try harder." The man shook his head and let out a soft chuckle. "You're always tired, but even I can tell something is bothering you."

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you gathered the rest of your belongings and stood up, "I'm fine, sir." You quietly muttered a 'thank you' before turning to leave, not noticing the sad smile that followed you. "If there's anything I can do, don't be afraid to come and visit me."

The air outside the classroom was much colder and you shuddered softly, stiff legs carrying you outside of the castle where you stood beneath an archway that overlooked the court yard. Eyes taking in the Quidditch stalls off in the distance where several students flew about practicing the sport and then overlooking the Old Forest which despite the season, was always shrouded in a thick layer of fog, eerie as ever.

You didn't have much time before your next class and for a brief moment you wondered if you should just skip, but cringed at the idea. You'd gotten into enough trouble this year already and it had barely started, there was no way you'd get away with skipping class.

Turning back into the open entry of the castle and quickening pace, you cursed yourself for taking so long to get there. Care of Magical Creatures was usually held outside regardless of whether classes were practical or theory, outside the other side of the castle. The bell thrummed again and you broke out into a full on sprint, cussing as the last groups of students filtered into their classrooms and leaving you alone in the halls.

"Shit, shit," you hissed, gripping the thigh of your slacks and raising them as you did the previous class, preparing to trek through mud and muck to get there. You turned a corner and let out a relieved sigh as you neared an exit to the far side of the castle, you'd be a little late but that was better than a lot late.

Legs slowing until you were at a comfortable stride, you slipped past a fellow student, so fixated on the sun shining in through the glass surrounding the archway outside that you didn't even notice who it was. Only when a voice called to you did you realize - your heart dropped farther than it had in days. "Y/N, wait," Sterling called and you whipped your head around to look at him, "What are you doing, Mathers? Class is this way."

The Ravenclaw looked careful, cautious as he spoke to you. "Not today, it isn't. We're at E-13 today, Professor Dumbledore is substituting."

You said nothing as from head to toe, you glared at every exposed inch of Sterling and he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, "What happened to Kettleburn?" You asked warily, turning and slowly taking his side.

You felt your pride shrivel as the two of you began to walk together, you hated that you were in the company of a boy that had attacked you days prior to Abraxas. As far as you were concerned, the two of them were in the same boat, now.

"Professor Kettleburn is in Greece right now. I'm not sure what for, but until he comes back we have Dumbledore." He filled you in politely as he had when you first met and you walked in an uncomfortable, intimidating silence. You were too angry at Sterling to be afraid of him, or maybe you weren't afraid because you'd been toe-to-toe in his glorified broom closet and lived.

You could feel his green eyes on you every so often and it was beginning to get on your nerves - it was obvious he wanted to say something. Apologize, maybe? Let's start over, Y/N. Let's be friends, Y/N. You rolled your eyes at the thought and Sterling definitely noticed, taking a deep breath before reaching out and taking your arm.

Quickly pulling yourself from his grip, you glared at the Ravenclaw. "Don't touch me unless you want to lose your hand, Mathers." Even you were surprised at just how venomous you sounded and it took effort to keep yourself composed. "Y/N," Sterling frowned at you, "We need to talk."

"No, we don't. We need to go to class." You spat, patting down your robe like he'd dirtied it with his touch. "What happened in the library - "

"Is none of your bloody business, Mathers. Stop talking." Taking steps so large you must have looked ridiculous, you neared the classroom and ignoring the Ravenclaw's protests, pushed the door open to an empty classroom.

The gentle click of the door's lock had you turning, hand reaching into your robe without a word. Sterling was standing, back to the door and staring at you with not an ounce of animosity in his eyes and you hesitated.

"What is this?" You felt your fingertips caress your wand's edge as you watched the boy, who didn't even make a move under your hard glare. "I said we needed to talk."

You thought it over briefly before speaking again, "Then talk." Eyes followed Sterling's every move and he flashed you an apologetic look. "I hope I didn't hurt your head too much the other night," he took a step closer to you, "In the library."

You weren't sure whether to feel angry or relieved as he continued, "It was me, Y/N. I wanted to tell you after it was all over but I can't just waltz into the Slytherin common room and it seems like you've been hiding there."

You gawked at him, completely dumbfounded at his confession. "You were the one who attacked me in the library? Not Malfoy?" Sterling raised a finger to his lips and you hissed, "Don't shush me! Are you mad?"

The brunette sighed, "Please keep it down, Y/N. I didn't mean for it to go that far but I did what you asked, didn't I?" You shrieked in response, "I did not ask for you to assault me, you idiot! You couldn't have gotten him to leave me be any other way?"

"It worked though, didn't it? The Headmaster doesn't ever take anything that goes on between you and Abraxas seriously. It's been going on since I came to Hogwarts." He argued and you seethed in anger, "How would you know?" "Everyone knows, Y/N. For God's sake you two never stop."

You were silent for a long time. Regardless of how little Sterling knew you as a person, he was right about this. Nothing ever came of your complaints to the Headmaster, nothing ever stopped Malfoy's constant harassment and nothing would have happened if he hadn't attacked you in the library - if Sterling hadn't framed him for attacking you in the library.

This was all too much for you and you blinked away tears, breath hitching in your throat as you stumbled back into a desk, resting against it. Sterling didn't say anything, he just watched you sob in the dark classroom until you were finished.

"I did what you asked, Y/N. He won't bother you again." He reminded you, much closer than he was a moment ago. You looked up at him through teary eyes and the olive-skinned boy looked apologetic. "I'm sorry I frightened you."

"You did far more than frighten me, Mathers." You laughed, "I should have known when you hexed me without a wand that you weren't Malfoy, he's about as smart as a bag of snails."

Sterling's sad expression weakened as he laughed with you, "You noticed?" Humming in response, you wiped your eyes and smiled at him despite your anger, it was dulling. Sterling had attacked you but you reasoned that it was in your best interest and were already beginning to forgive.

"How did you do that?" You asked, lashes still heavy with tears. "Polyjuice potion." Mathers fake-gagged, emitting another laugh from you that you quickly tried to shake off. You wanted to be angry at him for what he'd done since it was never your idea in the first place, but it hardly mattered now. You should be thanking him, you haven't seen that snot-nosed brat since.

"I truly am sorry that I took it so far," Sterling frowned again, his eyes deep with regret. "I knew that if I'd discussed it with you previously, you might not be able to pull off your part."

You couldn't help the smirk that crossed your face, "Are you saying I'm a bad actor?"

The Ravenclaw turned away from you with a chuckle, "I think regardless of how talented you may be, it was definitely a powerful show of emotions - it was impactful." It stung a little to hear Sterling talk about the encounter as if it weren't so traumatizing, but you tried to ignore it.

"I wasn't lying about Kettleburn being in Greece, by the way, but we don't have a substitute today, free period." A part of you was glad there would be no class today as you were far too emotionally drained to show your face anywhere, let alone participate in activities. You patted your puffy cheeks and sighed, following Sterling from the classroom and into the halls.

"Good."

[withered-pages-blog]

Liar 13/? (Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort Imagine)

(A/N: I’m on fire!)

The soft tickle of fur and gentle purring roused you from slumber slowly, a soft weight pressing into your side affectionately. You ran your fingers through the gentle silk and moaned softly, stroking the vibrating mass of fur. Your head turned and from behind your crusted eyelids, the sun was shining outside and a pair of voices off in the distance whispered quietly.

Mother and Father? You listened carefully to a man's voice, then a woman's and they exchanged in that order from the far end of the room. It didn't sound like them, but it must be. Who else would be in your room at this hour?

Rubbing your eyes with your free hand, you blinked rapidly to adjust to the light coming from a window by your bedside, a far away window. Blinking again and again until there was no more pain, the pieces began to fall apart and then rearrange. This wasn't your room, your bed and those voices weren't your parents - the only thing that was yours, was the large furry creature who stared up at you adoringly as you rose from the bed. The hospital wing, again.

The couple by the matron's desk parted and you sighed as she approached you, her face just as concerned as the last time you'd visited. "Dear child, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Raising a small vial, you snorted and shakily reached out for said vial, "This bed is just more comfortable than the one in my dormitory, ma'am." Having learned the last time just how vile these potions were when freshly brewed, you downed it with a scowl before returning the empty glass to her, smiling at her reassuringly.

"I had to move a student just so you could use this bed, dear. You must stop running into trouble so often." She lectured, finger raised at you. "No need to worry, though. Professor Dumbledore told me everything."

You raised a brow at her and stretched your legs, cringing at the stiffness - you needed to get more exercise if this was going to be routine for you. "It's very common for being to feel ill after their first few times Apparating. My first time was terrible, I actually fainted as well."

Nodding softly, you pulled the blankets off and tossed them over the lump at your bedside. "How long was I out for this time, miss?"

"Oh, not too long. Only overnight, but I expected longer so I made sure to clear the wing. You gave a lot of your friends quite a scare, Y/N."

You didn't remember telling the matron your name but that wasn't a surprise, you'd been visiting her far too often for her not to. Guilt prickled within you, you were probably becoming a burden to the poor woman. Then it hit you.

"Wait, friends?" Your eyes shot up to the woman and she nodded, "They were very worried. Followed you all the way from the office to the wing to see what'd happened to you, dear."

Your face hardened, "Do you know who?" There were few you could think that would bother stopping by the wing and even then, you hoped it was none of them. "Two I can't really recall, a boy and a girl in Ravenclaw, I believe. And Tom, of course."

The sound of his name made you want to faint all over again but instead you groaned, throwing your face into the pillow and ignoring the pawing at your midsection, "Stop it, Aradia."

She mewed in response before curling up on your back and resuming her purring. "It's good to have friends who truly care about you, darling. They were all so worried."

Why in the name of Salazar was Tom there? He most definitely wasn't in the library when you were serving detention and he absolutely was not in the office when Dumbledore transported you there, either. So how did he find out about you fainting and why did he even bother stopping by? The Ravenclaws you knew and although you were definitely confused, you were more at ease.

Odd how Tom had never pointed his wand at you but still made you far less comfortable than Sterling, who had.

"Ma'am, what time is it?" Turning your head to watch the woman tending to a student next to you, she stopped mid-movement to think before she responded, "Should be about quarter to seven, dear. More than enough time to pop back into your dormitory and gather your things if you're feeling ready to."

It was obvious the woman needed you gone, less students to tend to, less to worry about and so you nodded with a soft 'thank you'. Shrugging Aradia off you and rising from the bed, you left the hospital wing with your shoes dangling in your hand. You were too tired to care about what others were thinking of you and too tired to notice what little your socks did to shield your feet from the cold.

Hardly anyone was up yet and you were thankful but still anxious. You wondered what had happened to Abraxas, what his punishment would be or if he even got one at all. Pain thudded in your head as you rolled your eyes, Dippet held that boy on a pedestal for some ridiculous reason and always found a way to blame you for his actions, but now was hardly the time to dwell on that.

The soft pitter-patter of feet followed behind you, "And just where have you been all this time, hm?" You asked accusingly and she purred in response, almost tripping you over as she dashed between your legs and down the hallway to the dungeon.

Typical cats, you frowned and approached the painting that shielded your common room, "Pureblood." You grimaced, hating having to even utter the phrase. The painting didn't move and the figure within tutted, "Incorrect." "No," you sighed impatiently, "Pureblood."

Still, the painting didn't shudder and shift away, it stayed. The woman sitting in the frame smirked at you, "Incorrect." You gaped at her, "This is ridiculous. You know I'm in Slytherin, now let me in." She stared at her nails, uninterested. "No password, no entry."

Sucking a deep breath through gritted teeth, you dropped your shoes carelessly onto the ground, "I swear I'll rip you off this wall and throw you into the lake." You threatened and the woman pressed a hand to her chest with a dramatic gasp, "Was that a threat I just heard? From a student?"

Face red with anger, you opened your mouth to speak when you were interrupted, the painting disappearing behind the wall as the entrance appeared - you'd be glad if it wasn't Tom's face that emerged from the darkness behind it.

For a moment he looked like a mirror reflecting you, eyes sunken in, lips parted and posture downright terrible but he straightened up a moment later, brushing hair from his forehead and clearing his throat.

"You're well, I see." Brows arched as always, you didn't bother to meet his eyes as you slipped past him, muttering some response that Tom didn't hear and so he turned, calling your name.

You wanted to keep walking, you wanted to just go upstairs to your dorm and throw yourself into bed and just sleep another day away and forget about your problems for a while, but of course you didn't when you heard your name again, this time lower - deeper.

"What is it, Riddle? I need to get ready for classes." Glancing over your shoulder at the brunette, you sighed at him. He looked mildly irritated but still put on that same neutral expression he did with everything and everyone. "Classes aren't for another hour and a half, Y/N. I think you can spare a moment." He insisted and you frowned, hating how polite he was being. "What is it, then?"

Tom was about to speak when you began towards the center of the common room where you tossed yourself carelessly onto the old leather couch. Running a hand over your face, you waited for Riddle to continue and only once you sat up and motioned for him to go on did he speak.

"I was informed of the incident in the library yesterday," He began, "Am I to understand that Abraxas hexed you during detention?" You scoffed, leaning against the leather and ignoring the squeal of protest against your weight. "You're not to understand anything," you retorted, hand raising lazily and waving him off.

"Malfoy does what Malfoy does," the Slytherin prefect's neutral expression was fading and it was becoming more and more obvious how impatient the boy truly was, especially in this moment. "He cornered me in the library and hexed me for getting Hornby into trouble or something," Aradia's big eyes loomed from above the fireplace over Riddle's shoulder and you smiled softly. "It's not important anymore, it's dealt with."

"Is it?" Tom folded his hands behind his back and pursed his lips, "Headmaster Dippet was quite displeased," he hesitated, "I was supposed to be watching you."

You sneered and stood up, "I don't need you to watch me, Tom. I'm fine on my own." You snapped and the boy simply stared, "Clearly you do need me," his eyes followed yours and he turned to look over his shoulder to find nothing. Aradia was gone.

"Regardless off how we feel, Dippet has made it clear that it's now my duty to," Tom stopped and blinked as he turned back to you, "to.."

You crossed your arms and frowned as Riddle reached up to scratch the tip of his nose before it wrinkled and he sneezed into his hand gracelessly. "Excuse me," you smirked as those eyes reappeared in the same place as they'd been moments ago, "Allergies, Riddle?"

Tom shot you a suspicious glance but ignored your comment, "As I was saying, Headmaster Dippet made it excruciatingly clear that I'm to keep a close eye on Abraxas until things between the two of you settle down. They came to an agreement, he wouldn't be expelled if he remained out of your sight for the rest of the year."

You rolled your eyes and waved him off, "How about the rest of forever." The comment was mostly to yourself, but you were somewhat irritated that Tom didn't respond, his gaze falling to the floor with a curious glint.

"Y/N, I believe it's best if you wear shoes when wandering the castle. It does get cold and you might fall ill again if you're not careful." Riddle's tone fell so close to playful that it made your skin crawl and you looked down at your bare feet, closing your eyes and letting out a long, drawn out sigh. "The password was changed without my knowing."

Tom frowned, "I'm sure it wasn't. The passwords are only changed at the beginning of each semester, or if there's a breach." Shaking your head and turning back to the entrance of the common room, you shifted from foot to foot as the wall shook and the painting moved, it's back to you.

Stepping out of the passage you looked around in search for your shoes, but found none and stood for a moment, brows furrowed thoughtfully. Had you left them in the hospital wing? No, you remembered distinctly having them with you on your way to the dungeon, you'd only dropped them when that obnoxious painting started to back-talk you.

You didn't have to look at Tom's face to know he was amused, "I'd lend you a pair if I wasn't sure they'd be too big for you." Gritting your teeth as you so often did, you turned and stepped back into the common room, "If that's all you had to say to me then I'll be going."

Storming past him with a new built up frustration, you didn't even bother listening for a response, walking up the spiral staircase and muttering bitterly to yourself. "Keeping an eye on Malfoy shouldn't be hard since he's always got his head up your arse."

You didn't notice the hard glare following your figure up the staircase until you disappeared, nor did you notice Aradia above the fireplace, back arched and fur puffed aggressively before she slinked away into the shadows.

[withered-pages-blog]

Liar 12/? (Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort Imagine)

(A/N: Thanks for the support since coming back, guys. I was feeling a little bumpy at first but things are smoothing out now.)

Days had passed since your last meeting with Sterling and you were beginning to wonder if he'd just reconsidered the deal he'd forced upon you. You didn't see him in class, you didn't see him in the Great Hall and you didn't see him in the library where you spent the rest of your detentions, courtesy of Tom Riddle.

Dipping the very tip of your finger into your mouth, you turned a page for the hundredth time, absorbing none of the information you were reading. In one ear and out the other, your teachers would tell you. Sighing, your eyes drifted from the book in front of you and off into the distance of the massive library - this book wasn't going to help you pass the time and so you'd have to find another.

You rose from your seat, carefully tucking it under the table before taking quiet steps into the depths of the library, hoping no one would notice you go and demand you stay in your seat for the entirety of your detention session. You traced spines of books perched neatly at either side of you, strolling through the shelves and skimming over the covers silently.

You'd never ventured this deep into the library and you wished you had, finding a far corner with a single round table next to a window, but hidden by many shelves and out of sight. Approaching the empty chair beside it, you reached out to pull it forward, only to let out a frightened yelp when it screeched, dragging itself across the floor and away from you.

You didn't have to turn around to know who that snickering belonged to and your heart dropped. So Sterling had forgotten about your deal, figures. Turning around and thinning your lips into the best smile you could muster in his presence, you spoke.

"Hello, Abraxas." Eyes drifting from his arrogant face and downward, you noticed his fingers were curled beneath the billowy sleeve of his robe and sighed, "If you don't mind, I'd like that chair back."

The blonde smirked at you, raising his hand and twirling his long fingers, the chair mimicked him and rattled before beginning to move, "This chair?" It circled you slowly, barely touching the ground as to make no noise or attract attention.

"Yes, this chair. Give it to me." Back slumping, you let out a soft groan, every step you took was blocked by the flying chair.

"Let's not do this right now, please." Abraxas scoffed in mock disbelief, "I'm sorry, what? I didn't hear that last part, Y/N."

You were already too tired from the past few days events and really didn't have the energy to cat fight with Malfoy but you certainly weren't going to say please to him more than once. You'd rather recount the day he convinced Olive to drop leeches down your robe - you shuddered at the memory.

"Give me my chair, Malfoy." You sneered at him half heartedly. "Please, Y/N. Say please."

The breath in the back of your throat refused to leave and you were left lips parted, eyes wide and probably looking like a buffoon. You said nothing. "Give - " "Shhhh!" Both of you jumped in the dark and you searched for a figure with your eyes but found none and from the look of it, neither did Malfoy. The chair in front of you dropped lifelessly onto the ground in front of you as he turned, glaring into the dark. "Who's there?"

"No one but us. Now be quiet, you inconsiderate little fool." A scratchy voice barked and you couldn't help but laugh, cupping your face into your hands and shaking, careful not to eye off the obviously cranky painting hanging crooked on a brick wall above the table.

"Little fool would be right," you agreed playfully. Abraxas still looked bewildered but he barely showed it, glaring from the dark back at you with cold grey eyes. "Do you think your little tricks are funny? Hm?"

With long, loud steps, the Slytherin pure-blood came closer and closer until the distance between you was almost close. Any other person in your position would be ecstatic to have the ever so charming Abraxas Malfoy this close, but it was you - and you were anything but pleased.

"I bet you thought ratting out Olive was funny, too. Do you know how many weeks of detention she'll have to serve because of you?" Abraxas was much taller than you and you'd never noticed until that moment.

The only times you were ever in such close proximity was when you would quite literally brawl as children, but years passed and the two of you were lectured countless times as to why that was inappropriate, that a man never hits a lady and if he does, a lady certainly doesn't hit back.

Scoffing at the thought, you shoved past him to return to your seat at the front of the library, cursing yourself for having left to begin with. Of course you'd find trouble where ever there were no eyes to witness it but it just had to be Abraxas causing it. For a moment, you almost wished you'd just accepted Sterling's offer to begin with, maybe things would be different.

You were wrong for thinking that that would be the end of your short-lived, unpleasant encounter with Abraxas. Pain shot across the back of your scalp as his long fingers clutched at a fist-full of your hair and when you screamed instinctively at the pain, nothing came out.

That was when the real panic started, you tried to protest but again, no sound came from you - it was clear that you'd been silenced while your back was turned but what truly shocked you was that Abraxas wasn't even holding his wand. He'd hexed you without it, and that was terrifying.

It took years for wizards to even begin using incantations without their wands and even the most talented never fully mastered the art, so how was Abraxas doing this? He'd never displayed such intellect before, always prattling on in class and refusing to do his own homework, bullying first-years or paying sixth-years to do it for him.

"Don't turn your back on me, you filthy little blood traitor." He spat at you, grip tightening in your hair the more you struggled. "You're so disgusting, did you know that? I can barely stand to even touch you right now."

Eyes watering, you winced silently as Abraxas turned your head at an angle you wanted to cry at, an angle your neck wasn't meant to turn that only brought you more discomfort, bordering on painful. "I bet you just relished in getting her into trouble. Olive is ten times better looking than you and five times smarter, so why wouldn't you be jealous of her?"

Jealous? This boy was completely mad if he thought you were jealous of Olive Hornby - you barely ever even thought about her unless she went out of her way to torment you, which she did only on command.

Words died in your throat as you opened your lips to speak, momentarily forgetting you'd been hexed. Instead, you watched Malfoy carefully and he grinned, pulling your head this way and that and chuckling quietly at your reaction. Face scrunched up and tears beginning to fall from your eyes, you felt helpless against him until you finally reached into your robe, searching for your wand, tense shoulders slumping as you realized it wasn't there. You'd forgotten your only form of defense under the pillow you slept on at night in your dormitory.

Eyes drifting shut hopelessly, you waited for Malfoy to continue his taunts and after a long, drawn-out yawn, he did. "Forget something, Y/N?" He tutted condescendingly at you before giving your head another firm yank, hoping to force another silent cry from you and when you didn't react, he did it again.

Again and again and again he yanked at your hair, which was burning painfully with each tug. You felt hair break close to your head and grimaced at the thought, he was literally pulling your hair out and you could do nothing to stop him, you'd have to wait until he was finished and that's what forced a reaction out of you, a face that Malfoy absorbed with his eyes, smirking sadistically.

It didn't last, though, and the Slytherin's grip on you loosened suddenly as he parted from you quickly. Faster than you'd ever seen him move, he was behind a shelf and trying his best to hide in the shadows as footsteps approached quickly, too quickly for someone just browsing the library - and that's when you noticed.

The painting, it's grumpy old figure who'd only moments ago snapped at the two of you for making too much noise, he was gone. Gone from the frame that held him and in none nearby.

"Mister Malfoy, how dare you!" A shrill voice had every student who'd come for quiet groaning, their study sessions coming to a rude end. "Putting your hands on a fellow student? You're a disgrace, boy!"

He didn't move and neither did you until the figures revealed themselves from around a corner shelf. The Librarian, a tall, willowy woman followed by your favourite teacher and all-too often savior, Albus Dumbledore.

The woman barely even bothered to console you and brushed right past to the corner Malfoy had taken refuge in, pinching his ear and dragging him from the shadows. He chattered his teeth painfully as she pulled him down the passageway and presumably out of the library, to the Headmaster, leaving you alone with Professor Dumbledore.

You said nothing, but sniffled and wiped away tears onto your sleeve carelessly. You would never allow anyone to see you in such a pitiful state, but Dumbledore was the only person you trusted, the only person who held a genuine care for you - for all students at the school.

"How did you find us?" You asked, shocked to find your voice had returned to you. Looking up at the old man through glassy eyes, you smiled thankfully, though it was barely there. "I believe you know the answer to that already,"  Albus reached out, hand held by wrinkled flesh finding your shoulder and guiding you into the very seat that had started this entire argument.

"Take a moment to breath, I understand that this must have been quite traumatic. I've been filled in by Ser Argane already, but will you tell me your side? What happened here, Y/N?" No one's voice calmed you like your Professor's did and sometimes you wondered if feeling that way was inappropriate, perhaps you shouldn't feel as safe and at ease as you do with Dumbledore.

"I'm here for the last detention I was supposed to serve from Professor Slughorn, you know, for skipping announcements at the Great Hall." Your mind flickered back to the night you'd been punished for almost nothing, the man had been manipulated by his star pupil, Riddle. You hardly had the time to dwell on your hatred for the boy.

"I was just reading to pass the time but it was dull, so I got up to find some other book to entertain me," picking at the thread of your vest, your lip quivered as you continued, "He just showed up, Professor. I really didn't do anything to him."

You looked up and saw nothing but compassion behind the mass of facial hair in front of you, "Abraxas was trying to get me back for getting Olive into trouble."

Dumbledore hummed quietly, fingers twirling a loose strand of his beard, "For the incident in Potions, yes, I heard about that." You nodded, "I tried to leave but he hexed me and.." You sighed, shaking your head, "The rest isn't important, then you showed up."

The two of you were quiet for a moment before Dumbledore spoke up, "Will you take my arm for a moment?" Raising your head and staring at the Professor, you reached out, carefully looping your arm with his and in an instant, everything was a whirlwind of colours, sounds and smells that had you on your hands and knees when it was all over.

You gagged a few times, eyes watering until you were able to calm your confused senses, gladly inviting the warm hand that rubbed soothing circles between your shoulders. "Terribly sorry, Y/N. Not everyone's first time Apparating is pleasant." You wanted to be angry at that clearly amused tone of voice, but you could never find it within yourself to harbor anything but pleasant feelings for the man behind you.

In front of you, though, was an entirely different case. Standing by his desk and staring down at you accusingly, brow raised and foot tapping impatiently was your Headmaster. The man was clearly irritated to say the least and you slowly stood up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and meeting his hard gaze with a timid one in return.

"I see the two of you are inseparable," He said in a low tone and if you weren't still recovering from your ordeal, you'd be staring slack-jawed at the man.

"Sir?" Your voice sounded more animal than human at the moment and you cleared your throat aggressively before swallowing, looking at the man the entire time. "I've been notified of your situation. Is it true that Abraxas Malfoy attacked you in the library, Y/N?"

You said nothing but nodded, more focused on how run-down and exhausted you were feeling, eyes drifting from your Headmaster to the other figures standing at either side and behind you. "Yes."

Unkempt brows raised, "Yes?"

"Yes, sir." You corrected, slouching awkwardly in the Dippet's shadow. "I'll need you to give me a written statement, Y/N. This is becoming serious, your fued with Abraxas."

Your gut burned with anger at the comment but you remained silent, nodding at every second word the Headmaster prattled at you, lecturing you the same old string of words he had for years. "I won't be tolerating this kind of behavior in my school, Y/N. This has gone on for too long."

Stomach screaming at you to protest, you clenched your eyes shut and groaned softly before blinking them back open. It took you a moment to realize that Armando was swaying in front of you, then circling until he was directly above you - the strange sudden change of environment was accompanied with a sharp pain in the side of your head and left shoulder.

"Fetch the matron immediately!" The man's hard glare turned just as quickly as the world had around you and he leaned down, cupping head in his hands with a genuinity he rarely showed.

"Don't just stand there boy, help them up. Hurry now," Hands grabbed at you without consent but with a tenderness you welcomed, eyes fluttering closed and lazily reopening as you fought sleep's tendrils.

Time slowed down and sped up all at once as you drifted in and out of consciousness on the Headmaster's office floor, the only thing grounding you to the waking world was the soft voice of someone unfamiliar. You were rolled onto your uninjured shoulder and onto a stretcher that lifted you from the cold ground and out of the room swiftly but also carefully.

Even in your current state, you caught glimpses of students gathering in groups as you descended stairs and glided through hallways, footsteps following closely behind you and that same voice whispering to you from somewhere in your mind.

"Out of the way, children! Clear a bed." Lips tugging into a soft smile, you let out a soft, lazy laugh before sleep had finally seduced you, head lolling back into someone's open palm.

How many times were you going to faint this year?

[withered-pages-blog]

Liar 11/? (Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort Imagine)

"Help you how?" The silence that followed was so thick you could drag your fingers through it and Sterling was looking at you, contemplating what he should say next. It took a lot of glaring for him to finally gather himself to reply. "I can't go into the restricted section anymore, Y/N."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You can't go into the restricted section period, Mathers. What's this about, really? Spit it out."

The raven-haired Ravenclaw sighed softly before motioning for you to sit and you did, eyes never leaving him for a moment. Suspicion grew and predictions flew through your mind, none of them good.

"I've been studying Transfiguration since I was a first year, it's a passion of mine. A great one," waving his wand, the fire sparked to life. "Do you know how much knowledge they keep from us in that section of the library? There's so much that they don't teach us here at Hogwarts because they've deemed it too dangerous, as if we're not capable enough."

You hummed in agreement, there were an awful lot of books in the restricted section and although you'd never really stopped to take a peak through those steel bars, you were beginning to wonder.

"You're smart, Y/N. I can tell," he leaned in, "I can tell you want to know more."

Heart clenching, your teeth gritted together angrily, all previous opinions of Sterling going out of the window. He was trying to manipulate you. "Don't butter me up, Mathers. How dumb do you think I am? You just brought me here to do your dirty work."

For a moment Sterling looked surprised, but his bright green eyes still held that intense glint to them. "I'm asking you to help me, as a friend."

You swatted away the hand that reached out to touch you and stood up, straightening your robes, "I don't have time for your games. Ask someone else or do it yourself. If there's nothing in it for me, why should I risk it?"

Turning on your heel, you stormed off into the thin hallway that you came from, but as you neared where the exit should have been, you only found wall. A close presence had you pressing against the cold stone there. "Let me out of here, Sterling."

Sighing deeply, you listened to long steps growing nearer. "I can't let you tell anyone about this place, Y/N."

He was quick, but so were you, and soon the two of you were pointing your wands at each other, "I said let me out, you little worm."

"I can't trust you."

"I can't trust you, either. I never should have, clearly." Knees quaking lightly, you raised your wand higher, aiming it at the Ravenclaw's shadowed face and for a moment, you lowered your arm - only slightly.

"I didn't want this to happen, I just - Obliviate!"

"Protego!" Whipping your arm with what little space you had in the thin hallway, your wand shook and a white light spewed from it before expanding in front of you in the form of a magical shield.

"I knew you were clever, Y/N." You glared in the dark, the only light coming from the dying fire in the room behind you. "What can I do to persuade you to help me?"

"Nothing, now let me go, you little b - "

"Expelliarmus." Your wand flew from your hand and over your head, clattering into the brick wall. You scrambled for it in the dark anxiously before the tiny sliver of light was blocked out by Sterling's towering shadow, blanketing you in darkness.

So here you were, on your knees, shaking in fear in front of someone you had only just let in - you'd only just begun to trust, to believe you'd made a true friend and that's all it took. Your ears strained for something, some incantation, some ruffle of robes, anything.

"If you help me, I can help you." Mathers offered, tone soft and almost apologetic - this only angered you more. "I don't need your bloody help. I don't need anyone's help."

Your fingertips caressed the end of your wand and for a moment you were hopeful, only for it to slide from your grasp and into the sneaky hands of the Ravenclaw above you. "I need this, Y/N, and I need your help."

Your pride shattered as Sterling's pale wand pressed into your neck, lifting your chin to look at him. Searching his face for anything was useless and you realized then that so was fighting him. Sterling had caught you off guard, he'd wormed his way in to your schedule, pretended to be your friend just to lure you somewhere secluded, to corner you and render you defenseless.

That pesky voice tickled the back of your mind, becoming louder and louder until it was your main focus. Not the wand in your face, not the soreness of your knees, not your wand in someone else's hands, but his voice.

“You’ve always responded exactly the ways they want you to,” you refused to let yourself be a victim to this boy or to anyone else - you weren't going to be anymore.

Weighing your options silently, you forced your scowl to smooth away, "A favor for a favor?"

Sterling's green eyes looked hopeful and he nodded, "That's right."

You stood up slowly, grimacing at the wand still pointed into the flesh of your neck but ignoring it the best you could, the thought in your mind urging you in a way you'd never felt before.

"I want you to do something for me, then." Mathers' dark brows raised quizzically and he motioned for you to continue, lowering his wand slightly - you were defenseless, after all, but you didn't want to be anymore.

You weren't going to lower yourself so far that you'd ever need to ask Tom Riddle for advice ever again and you were going to use this opportunity to make sure of that. Tom left your mind and was replaced by someone you hated equally, if not more.

That smug grin, pale skin, light blonde hair and pristine robes made you sick to your stomach and you were done with being made a fool of. You'd be rid of his constant taunts for good if you played your cards right and you'd do it without having to get your own hands dirty.

"I want you to make sure Abraxas Malfoy never bothers me again."

[withered-pages-blog]

Liar 10/? (Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort Imagine)

(A/N: Taylor as Sterling Mathers? Risky move!)

It was intimidating to begin with, seeing Sterling in your shared class and gathering the courage to approach him. You shifted from one foot to the other behind him as he skimmed through one textbook or another, part of you wanted to scoff, typical Ravenclaw.

"Did you need something, Y/N?" The boy mused, turning to face you but not raising his gaze from the pages.

It took everything in your being not to stutter your response, but somehow you managed it. Head held high with that fake Slytherin pride, you crossed your arms and smirked.

"Are you ever not reading?" You teased, and Mathers snapped the book shut before carefully pushing it into the bottom of his bookbag and flashed you a soft smirk of his own. "Some of us actually value knowledge."

You were about to counter his playful jab when you were interrupted by your professor, though you were far more interested in the mysterious Ravenclaw at your side, who didn't protest when you took a seat by him. In fact, the entire class went smoothly with Sterling and you felt relieved to have some normalcy for once in what felt like far too long.

"What did you think of my book, Y/N?" Sterling leaned in, reaching for his quill and dipping it in ink quietly before scribbling away, paying no mind to Kettleburn up front, who shot him a warning brow-wiggle.

"Your book? I wasn't aware you were an author." You'd never take chances speaking to someone you didn't know well, but somehow Sterling made you feel comfortable. Whatever taunt you threw at him, he threw right back with equal vigor and it made you feel at home in his presence.

No more was spoken of the book he'd shared with you, not until after class had finished and you were given your free period. Rising and gathering your belongings, you were about to leave when Sterling stepped in front of you, waiting for the rest of the students to file out of the room.

"Are you busy right now?" He asked and you slowly shook your head, "I have time."

"Good. Let's go somewhere more private, then." You sputtered in response and your cheeks flushed violently, "I-I'm not sure what you mean, but - "

Sterling pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed impatiently, "I wanted to discuss something with you, Y/N. We're not all here to get cozy."

You felt your face only heat up more, but you nodded timidly and followed in his tall shadow silently, kicking yourself for even considering Mathers coming onto you.

Of course he wouldn't do that, he was probably one of the most ambitious students in Hogwarts, he didn't have time for anything like romance, and even if he did, why would he fancy you? You barely knew each other, and you wondered if you were projecting onto him. Maybe you were getting too comfortable.

Weaving through pools of students, you struggled to keep up with the Ravenclaw ahead, who actually held himself with more pride than you did as an average Slytherin - he didn't spare anyone else a glance as he passed.

Students from all houses shifted the best they could out of Sterling's path and you grimaced at the sight, no one ever bothered to move out of your way. In fact, some even made an effort to trip you up or stop you altogether for fun.

You remembered Tom's words then.

“I just want to be left alone.” You told him.

“You’ve always responded exactly the ways they want you to,” Tom leered down at you like you were some sort of revolting insect. “You always give them a source of entertainment.”

“What should I do?” How could you be so shameless as to ask Tom Riddle for advice? You gritted your teeth at the memory.

“I wouldn’t know, that Hornby girl wouldn’t dare do to me as she did to you.”

The thought of his words made your blood boil and you realized just how little he thought of you, how little so many people thought of you.

“Because I’m smart.”

Every step was harsher than the last and soon you were practically stepping on Sterling's heels, too lost in your own world to realize that you were tripping both of you up. He turned a corner and you followed, only to find yourself facing a wall.

"Wrong turn?" Sterling's lips curled into an amused smile and you felt small beneath it. "Not at all. I wanted to show this to you."

The Ravenclaw withdrew his wand, pale colour clashing with his dark skin in a way you couldn't help but describe as beautiful. Watching him wave it in the shape of what looked like a lower-cased 'Z', you waited for a moment, unimpressed, until suddenly the painting sighed and shook, disappearing as the wall behind it turned and exposed a secret entrance to you.

Eyes wide and heart pounding, you gawked at the thin, long hallway ahead and continued to do so even after Sterling guided you inside, following you closely behind. Questions rose in your mind, too many to make sense of and you surely made a fool of yourself when a long string of gibberish left your still open mouth.

"Are you impressed?" He asked slowly, muttering a spell you were familiar with, Lumos.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark room, but it happened and you were shocked to find the room much larger than you'd originally thought. Long, blue curtains draped over a small window at the far end of the room by a small fireplace adorned with several mantelpieces that you'd never seen anywhere in the castle before.

Pushed up against the window-adorned wall was a long wooden table with books and loose pages scattered about on top of it and a lone chair left tucked beneath it.

"Sterling," you breathed, turning to him slowly, "What is this place?" Green eyes scanned over your face carefully before finally, they broke away from you and to the fireplace, "There are actually a lot of hidden passages throughout the castle, I found my first in second year. Don't you ever hear the sound of shifting brick at night? It's too loud not to notice."

Your fingers ran across the dusty table and laughed soflty, "Slytherin, Mathers. I'm a Slytherin," you turned your attention to the books strewn about in front of you and noticed a pattern in their contents. Transfigurations. All Transfigurations.

"I brought you here to ask for your opinion." Sterling began, taking a quiet step forward and carefully placing his bookbag on the table. "This book," he pulled that familiar leather-bound book from the depths and you blinked at it, then at him.

"It's the book I stole from the restricted section." You couldn't help the giddiness that welled within you and your lips curled into a mischievous grin, "This book is what landed you in detention last week?"

He nodded in response, "It took me a long time to get it but once I figured out how, it was easy, just like the rest." Your eyes scanned over the books he was motioning towards and despite it taking a moment for the cogs in your brain to grind into action, you understood.

"All of these were stolen from the restricted section of the library?!" You gawked, breath taken completely by Sterling's declaration.

"You liar," you picked the nearest one up and examined it carefully, many of the pages sticking together with magic to prevent prying eyes like yours. "There's no way you could take all of these without someone noticing. And all Transfigurations? What are you up to, Mathers?"

Sterling plucked the book from your hands only to replace it with the one he'd retrieved from his bookbag and gauging your reaction, "Y/N, will you help me?"

Squinting your eyes suspiciously at the Ravenclaw, you pondered for a moment, looking back at the books in front of you, illustrations of men and animals alike that for whatever reason seemed to beckon you in, the pages inviting you as if they knew how curious you naturally were.

"Help you how?"

[withered-pages-blog]

Aeryn Aldridge 3/? (Junkrat/Jamison Fawkes Imagine)

(A/N: After months of being an irresponsible pos, I’m back from overseas and want to thank the lovely @aerynaldie for allowing me to continue her story with new inspiration!)

Time slowed and then stopped after the fifth day of being bound to two of the most dangerous criminals she'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. Wrists burned from the rope binding them, jaw aching from the rag stuffed into her mouth, Aeryn's glazed over eyes seemed indecisive as they flickered back and forth between dead flies on the ground in front of her, unsure of which to watch.

She wasn't sure why they kept sneaking in through the cracks of her make-shift cell, but as another fluttered in from the world outside to keep her company, they'd find the ground like the ones before them. Aldridge let out a soft giggle as it dropped mid-air, spinning itself like some odd bug's break dance - surely she'd gone insane.

Aeryn was taken hostage by captors Junkrat and Roadhog, the young medic was being used against her will to repair whatever damage was inflicted on the two men. Day or night, she was their on-duty nurse without say and quite frankly, it was beginning to take a physical toll.

Of course the larger of the two was often the one more injured, but somehow he troubled Aeryn less with it, rarely taking the girl from the chair she was strapped to and when he did, he was quiet - something Aeryn had grown to appreciate.

Unfortunately, the wild-eyed smaller of the two was the complete opposite and it was utterly maddening. Junkrat would come to Aeryn day after day for the smallest of scratches and acted as if somehow it were life threatening, demanding her attention.

"This isn't necessary, you're fine."

"'M not, mate. Hurts reaaal bad."

"Please, I really just need some rest - "

Bright eyes leered down at Aeryn and her lips tightened in response, letting out a slow breath through her nose fearfully. "Sit down, then."

Junkrat giddily crouched onto the ground, his 'injured' ankle suddenly forgotten. He resumed his moaning once her talented fingers began unwravelling the bandage around his shin and hesitantly removed the dirty old boot, grimacing at the revolting stench.

"What did you do, again?" Aeryn raised her brows and gritted her teeth through the smell, gently rolling the man's boney ankle and gauging his reaction. There was none, of course - the man was grinning down at her.

"Tripped." He hummed, head resting on his gloved fist.

It took a lot for Aldridge to contain her frustration, as it was plain as day that the man was coming by just to bother her when he wasn't out wreaking havoc. She knew he'd come in with some excuse or another, pulling the rags wrapped around her eyes down her face and around her neck before explaining some made up injury or another.

The only reason Aeryn rejoiced in his visits were that she was able to stand, stretch her legs and rub her sore rump from hours of sitting. "Does it hurt to put pressure on it?"

The blonde squinted for a moment before nodding, "A bit, but mostly jus' hurts to ro - oi! That! It hurts to do that!" Aeryn's hands recoiled and she grimaced, "I'm sorry. I just need to know what hurts and what doesn't before I - "

"Ah, forget it, mate. Jus' bandage me up an' I'll be gone." Junkrat crossed his peg-leg beneath his extended injured one and looked away, mumbling obscenities as Aeryn picked the dirty rags from the floor and straightened them out, nose pinched with disgust.

"Get me my pistol and you won't need these dirty things." She tossed them to the side and dusted her hands off. "Yer not havin' it til you learn not to point the damn thing at me."

Silence followed and Junkrat stared, brow raised at the girl as he awaited her response.

Would she agree? Would she commit to her agreement? If he handed it over, would she shoot him dead on the spot? He was trying to tinker with it behind her back to somehow deactivate it's offensive stance but it was a lot more complex than he'd realized.

"I won't." Her hesitant voice responded, eyes drifting up carefully.

Aeryn kept her promise. Despite having mapped out an entire escape plan in her head, she didn't follow through with it - she choked up and did exactly what the man wanted.

It took a long time for any changes to begin, but Aeryn did her best to remain grounded, creating a routine for herself to stick by for her sanity's sake. Wake up, be fed, sit in her chair and watch flies dance on the ground, laugh at them, sleep, wake up and tend to either Junker, sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Slowly by slowly, Aeryn was allowed more privileges. First, the blindfold came off when she was moved form whatever run down shack they were squatting in, then the binds but still, she was only ever allowed to leave her home-made prison cell when she was being moved and rope would come right back on.

"Righto, mate, time to hop up." Aeryn weakly lifted her head and winced at the sunlight that pooled into the room with Junkrat's arrival. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere fancy, this time. Real fancy." The Brit moaned softly as the ropes wrapped tightly around her small wrists and her lids shut tightly, shielding her already sore eyes from the penetrating sunlight. "Please, do you need to put these on? It hurts."

The man clicked his tongue and hummed for a moment as if contemplating before letting out a long laugh, "'Course I do. 'M not dumb."

Aeryn felt her lip quiver at the man's teasing tone and the laughter ceased when she let out a sorrowful whimper. "Please," she begged, "at least for a while. I haven't been able to stretch in so long."

Junkrat was about to give her some snarky response when the loud thundering footsteps of his silent companion found the door, "Take it off."

The two men shared a long gaze and Aeryn held her breath and awaited a response. Roadhog might have been twice the size of Junkrat, but somehow the bug-eyed Junker called the shots, it seemed. "Not gonna happen."

Heart sinking in her stomach, Aeryn didn't even flinch when she felt large hands envelop her shoulders and gently guide her from the room, legs barely able to carry what little weight she had. She knew it was Hog just by his touch, he was always somehow kinder to her, he showed her mercy. She felt as though he was a gentle giant, despite knowing full well that he could and probably would break her in half if she tried anything.

At first, the girl would listen carefully to her surroundings - eyes still too tender to invite the light outside. The drip drip of some faraway leaky sink, the echo of her footsteps and the footsteps around her, the creaking of doors and the crunch of gravel beneath her shoes. Over time, it became routine, these noises, but the rev of the engine always made her jump, her bones aching and muscles tensing at the action.

Aeryn knew it wasn't a car, or at least she was almost certain, but certainly this piece of trash wasn’t a motorcycle because she would always be lifted into her seat. She never heard any kind of door open or close and the wind was always in her face, hissing in her ears - a blessing in disguise, air mixed with dust and dirt but still so fresh compared to her prison that she'd drink it if she could.

"'S'gonna be comfy this time, mate." Long legs curled around her trembling frame and the young woman tensed at the feeling, cold metal gently caressed her grime-covered skin and hot breath tickled her neck. "H-How do you mean?"

Giddy laughter followed, "You'll see." She wanted to inquire, to ask more, but all she got was a mouth full of dirt when she tried to. They were off into the day without another word, and Aeryn relished in every howl of the wind that passed her, every gentle kiss of the sun above and even the dusty smell of where ever she was.

She imagined a beautiful savanna, bathed in sun and shielded by clouds. Aeryn daydreamed whenever they moved and it was probably the only thing keeping her from flipping out at the junker perched behind her, always getting a little too close for comfort. Unfortunately, Junkers apparently had no regard for personal space.

Sometimes he'd rest his arms over her small shoulders, sometimes he'd wrap his flesh leg over hers, claiming he just needed some more leg room innocently and when Aeryn snuck a peak at his pinched nose, she wondered if he really was oblivious to their proximity.

"Gotta piss." Aeryn felt the vehicle slow and then stop and this always made her anxious, she hated being left alone in the open and almost wanted to protest when she felt Junkrat unravel himself from her, groaning as he stepped out of whatever they were sitting in. "Be back in a tic, doc."

Aeryn pulled her lip into her mouth and blinked away tears, "You're just gonna leave me here? Again?"

A low snort followed by drifting footsteps was her response, and the girl was left alone, hands and feet bound in what she felt was the most vulnerable position she'd ever be in.

The far-off drift of tumbleweed and the screeching of vultures was all Aeryn heard and it seemed to taunt her just enough to make her clench her eyes shut harder and suck in a deep breath.

Whenever she felt overwhelmed with the reality of things, she'd close her eyes, close her ears and try her best to shut off all her senses. She'd pretend she was somewhere else.

"You really should be more careful," Angela tutted and Aeryn smiled softly, curling a piece of sandy hair between her fingers and staring off into space. "You can never be too sure of what your actions could reap, the consequences to your decisions, the last thing I want is for you to become injured, Aeryn."

Shaking her head, the girl turned to her mentor, hand hugging the warm mug in front of her. "I know there's a lot of excitement, a lot of thrill in danger, but I didn't ask you to come with me for that." The beautiful blonde shot her a side-ways glance as she sipped from her own mug.

"When I was your age, I was the same. It took a while, but I was humbled," she frowned, "humbled in terrible ways."

There was a long silence between the two, and Aeryn felt the tension rise as memories of all the stories Angela had told her, both beautiful and horrific. Mercy was an angel, a hero and a saint in the eyes of those in need - she saved lives, but at a cost. Mercy had allowed comrades to die in place of herself as a youth, and regretted her poor judgement ever since, warning Aeryn never to make the same mistakes.

"I took it upon myself to arrange something a little different from your usual training regime but I'm sure you'll enjoy it all the same." This caught her attention again, and Aeryn raised her brows at the older woman. "It's something that will hopefully teach you some patience, my young grasshopper."

Scoffing at Angela's mock Japanese accent before rising from her empty mug and breakfast tray, the medic smiled hopefully, "Am I allowed to see Torbjörn‘s work yet, at least? You know you can't keep me in the dark forever." "Soon he will be finished with the prototype, which you will be allowed to see, but not use. Torbjörn is very particular about his," Angela cleared her throat, "babies."

The thought ripped Aeryn with a hoarse laugh from her place with Angela at the cafeteria and back into the unforgiving sun in the middle of nowhere. Slowly, she dared open one eye just a crack, then wider and wider until she was certain her irises wouldn't melt off from the harsh rays above.

Immediately, she wished she hadn't when her eyes found two naked backs. One rounded and bulging, the other slender and slouched in a way she as a medical professional would never recommend to anyone. Those Junkers were relieving themselves not five feet away from her, only decent enough to keep their junk from her sight, how chivalrous.

With a grotesque flick of the wrist, they were on their way back to the bike, Junkrat only just pulling his hand from his pants and shaking it, making Aeryn want to gag. "Don't gimme that look, girlie. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right, Roadie?"

The soft squeal of sun-kissed leather followed after the gigantic man nodded at his smaller companion, "Right."

[withered-pages-blog]

MASTERLIST

Harry Potter/FBAWTFT

Tom Riddle Jr

Tom Riddle Jr Series: (1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14)

Tom uses Amortentia on reader

Credence Barebone

Reader takes care of Credence’s wounds

Credence meets reader while handing out flyers

Newt Scamander

Newt finds reader as an abandoned pup

Overwatch

Junkrat

Junkrat proposes Junkrat takes a bath Junkrat takes reader to bed Morning after drinking with Junkrat

Junkrat/Reader Series (1 2 3)

Lucio

Lucio invites reader to the beach

Lord of the Rings

Frodo Baggins

Frodo confronts his feelings for reader

Law & Order: SVU

Olivia Benson

Olivia meets reader as a victim and stays with them as a survivor

Alien

Reader is captured and held against their will by a rogue Queen

[withered-pages-blog]

Aeryn Aldridge 2/? (Junkrat/Jamison Fawkes Imagine)

(A/N: A special thanks to @aerynaldie for letting me use their OC for this story and I’m soooo sorry for the long wait! Thanks for being so patient!)

Long locks caked in blood and soot were the first thing Aeryn could focus on when she awoke, lashes fluttering painfully as her eyes opened one after the other. She didn't move, she didn't have the strength to, but her mind was gathering itself and soon she was listening to the echo of footsteps and deep, guttural voices.

"Stop movin' around so much," the voice strained itself, pained moans following. "'m not movin'!"

Aeryn let a soft exhale leave her chapped lips and grimaced as she began to move, her stiff body aching horrifically. "This hurts more than my stump in the cold."

Sandy hair stuck to her forehead and the medic sucked in a shaky breath, ribs cracking and lungs burning. The girl was about to raise her head when she froze in place, neck painfully craned into her chest as she listened to heavy shuffling from afar that only grew closer with each step.

Heart pounding in her ears, Aldridge held her breath, clenching her eyes shut and forcing all of her pained muscles to relax. I'm asleep, I'm asleep. Leave me alone, I'm asleep.

Sweat gathered on her back and tears formed behind her closed eyelids, heavy breaths found their way to the back of her bloody scalp and Aeryn couldn't help but let out a soft whimper, unable to control her trembling body. Nothing happened for a long time and Aeryn listened to herself sniffle pathetically beneath those deep intakes of breath just above her until she let out a cry of pain.

Pain that shot from her scalp to her head and down her entire body as a large, beefy hand gripped onto her hair, raising her head -  the rest of her body following as she was dragged from the concrete floor.

"Stop! Stop!" She screamed, legs kicking wildly and hands clawing maniacally at the hand of her captor, "You're hurting me!"

Tears streamed down her face and Aeryn found herself frantically looking around, trying to take in every detail of the room she was in. She wasn't in the dark room she'd woken in, she was now being pulled down a long, dank looking corridor and into another room, a different kind.

Light flooded the corridor as a door was carelessly kicked open with a steel-toe boot and Aeryn was thrown onto the cold floor there, writhing and cupping her wounded head in her hands. She curled into herself and cried softly, eyes unable to remain open as she shook in her place.

"Y'didn't have to go an' rough her up, Hog." A voice tutted sarcastically before letting out a long laugh, followed by a hard cough. Aeryn felt the faint splatter of something warm find her already wet cheek and that's when her eyes snapped open despite the pain.

Wiping a knuckle to her cheek, she examined the dark crimson smudge there and forced herself to sit up, one hand still cupping her tender scalp. Her green eyes squinted at the penetrating light above but she forced herself into a sitting position, examining the man on the table who stared down at her.

Golden irises were the first thing she remembered and before she knew it, she was on her feet and pointing an accusing finger at him, "You're the bastard who - "

He raised his hands and smirked at the girl, "Sorry for your noggin', mate," he said but his face held no remorse for his grievous actions. "We jus' needed some help is all,"

The medic couldn't bring her brows down enough to frown at the man on the long, metal table so instead averted her gaze to the table next to him. A trey sat atop it neatly and held various tools coated in that familiar red colour. "Why would.."

Aeryn took a wobbly step away from the table only to find her back pressed firmly against a warm, rounded torso. Those same intimidating breaths found her neck and the girl jumped away with a quickness that made her head spin. "Why would I help either of you? You attacked me!"

Green eyes widened as that menacing gas mask lowered to her level, the man in front of her was a hulk of a human and she felt as if her bladder might empty at any moment. Glassy eyes that shielded the face of the man behind the mask reflected her terrified expression and massive hands found her shoulders.

"Because if you don't, you're not gonna help anyone ever again." A low voice threatened and Aeryn shuddered, tears reforming anew. "Y-You'll kill me?"

A high pitched sigh had Aeryn's eyes turned away, but the hands on her small frame kept her from turning away, fat fingers clamping down on her sore muscles.

"If you don't do what we say, you'll wish you were dead."

Aldridge took her trembling lip between her teeth and she blinked away tears, finally nodding as her head hung shamefully. "What do you want me to d-do?"

The masked man seemed content with her and loosened his grip on her, though his hands remained. Turning the girl to face the smaller of the two, he guided her with a hand on her shoulder back to the table. "Gotta help me, doc," the malnourished man cackled, hand finding his exposed forehead.

"I'm fadin' fast." Aeryn would've found his light hearted attitude amusing had she not been rendered unconscious and forced to tend to his wounds - wounds the girl was just now beginning to notice.

A deep, blood-filled hole sat just above the man's exposed belly-button and Aeryn cringed as she hesitantly stepped closer. "What happened to you?"

The man craned his head down at the small woman and flashed his sharp, uneven teeth at her. "One of your mates shot me."

Eyes widening dramatically, Aeryn parted her lips slowly, "One of m-mine?" Flaming hair swaying, the man nodded a little too enthusiastically. "The old man we found you with."

Aeryn cupped her mouth with her hands and let out a cry, 76 had shot him? "What did you do to him?" The girl asked, eyes flickering back and forth between his. The soot-covered criminal narrowed his eyes at Aeryn playfully and wiggled his thick brows, "Why? He mean somethin' to you?"

His tone was low and teasing and Aeryn's green eyes filled with tears and she briefly wondered when they'd stop, when she'd run out. "Get to it before I bleed out."

Aldridge glared through watery eyes, hands patting her sides for her pistol which was absent. "Where's my gun." She stated, rather than asked. Quietly snorting, the pot-bellied man behind her reached over her head, dangling the familiar white weapon in front of her face. "Saw you usin' this on your friend, it help?"

The blonde in front of her nodded in agreement, "Pretty fancy, if you ask me." Aeryn reached up to take it, when the masked man pinched in firmly between two beefy fingers. "Better not try anything, kid."

Her heart drooped in her chest and the sandy-haired girl nodded hesitantly before taking her pistol, setting it aside on the bed by the man on the bed who was wriggling with anticipation.

"C'mon, I hate waiting," he whined and Aeryn let out a long sigh, closing her eyes for a moment to gather herself. You can do this. You've got to do this.

"On your back, please." She said with a straightened back, eyes narrowing on the effected area. "Do you have any kind of anesthetic?"

The blonde blinked dumbly at Aeryn and she slumped slightly, "Nevermind." Her hands held his hips firmly and the man jumped at the contact, "Oi!"

"On your back, you - " she clenched her teeth and calmed herself, "You're going to need to lay down, sir,"

With lips formed into an 'o' the blonde giddily turned onto his backs, eyes locked onto Aeryn's small form. "Name's Junkrat, by the way. I'm not one'a them suits that likes to be talked up with fancy names like 'sir'."

It was somehow unnerving that Junkrat's unnaturally golden eyes seemed glued to Aeryn, they followed her everywhere as she reached for different utensils and then to her gun which she charged on the bedside. "This is going to hurt, so if there's anything that you have to dull the pain, now is the time to let me know."

That same snort erupted from the man from behind her and Junkrat let out a long groan, "We drank that yesterday, mate, I don't even want - "

"Drink it."

Aeryn nodded, "You're going to need it, I promise you."

[withered-pages-blog]

The scariest moment is always just before you start.

Stephen King (via megdegrant)

[withered-pages-blog]

Liar 9/? (Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort Imagine)

The rest of the day went by slowly but without any hiccups and all the while you were dreading detention. You were exhausted, physically and mentally. Shuffling from foot to foot to the library, you sat down on the nearest chair and rested your head against your folded arms, allowing yourself a moment’s rest.

A moment turned into five minutes, then ten, fifteen and finally twenty before the presence of someone shuffling in front of you had you jump awake. Head thrown up and eyes darting, you slumped as green eyes greeted you.

“Long day I heard.” The boy had a stack of books by his side and you groaned, “You have no idea, Green-Eyes.”

“Sterling.” He said, flicking through pages carelessly before tossing the book and picking up another from his pile, “My name is Sterling.“

“What are you doing here, Sterling?” You asked, cheek resting against your fist. “Same as you,” he sighed, brushing dark locks from his forehead. “Detention.”

A laugh escaped and you quickly covered it with a cough. “Convincing.” He teased, eyes meeting yours for a moment before returning to the pages.

“What’s a Ravenclaw doing in detention?” Raising an inquisitive brow at the boy, you examined the books. All Transfiguration. “I went into the restricted section.” A smirk spread across your face as you scanned the covers, “Why? Looking for something in particular?”

Sterling nodded slowly and was about to respond, but decided to slide an open book across the table to you, tapping the illustration on the page with his finger. A wild dog snarled on all fours under the moonlight, surrounded by other mysterious creatures. Squinting at the text by the interesting picture, you read through it slowly. It was human transfiguration - how to become an Animagus.

“You’re ahead in Transfigurations?” You blinked at Sterling and he smiled lightly, “Something like that.”

Furrowing your brows as you looked from him back to the page, you scanned over the text carefully, intrigued by the contents within the book. Step by step instructions were present and you had to go over the paragraphs a few times before you actually absorbed it. Humming softly as Sterling watched you read, the two of you jumped when someone cleared their throat.

“Y/N, I thought I reminded you of your detention with me this afternoon.” That usually condescending voice sounded irritated or even angry. Snapping your book shut and sliding it across the table to the equally startled brunette, you looked up at Riddle, eyes wide.

“This is where I always serve detention, I thought you’d meet me here.” Tom glared down at you and you suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, standing and flashing Sterling an apologetic look, “Let’s chat later, alright?” The green-eyed boy stared at you, brows raised, before slowly nodding and taking a hold of the book you’d returned.

Turning away from Sterling and taking the annoyed Slytherin’s side to leave but stopped mid-step to swiftly return to Sterling, arms wrapping around his neck tightly in a hug. The library was silent, save for your breathing and the shocked brunette’s heartbeat against you.

“Don’t move.” You warned before slowly pulling away and meeting his startled eyes. He said nothing, but his eyes told you he understood and you smiled thankfully, intentionally avoiding Tom’s hard face - he hadn’t seen you reach into your own pocket and pluck a small, green critter and hand it to the mocha-skinned boy ahead.

You felt intimidated when you realized Riddle was glaring at you from the corner of his eye as you walked side by side in silence. It seemed as if after a while, the Slytherin couldn’t stand it anymore and broke it. “Future detentions will be held at the library, but we need to redo our Shrinking solution.”

You nodded, sighing softly as the day’s events replayed in your mind. “You told me it was Hornby who put leeches down my back,” the door swung open and you let out a deep sigh, “Did she say why?”

“You and the Ravenclaw boy, Mathers.” He tutted and you raised your brows, “What about him?” The two of you turned into the potions classroom and you blinked, everything was already set up.

“You have everything ready?” Eyes finding his, Tom clenched his jaw, “Of course, I’m not nearly as unorganized as the rest of our class.” You flinched lightly and examined all the jars, the contents and all the creatures you now hated. You kept your distance.

“I find it distasteful.” You nearly stopped mid-step. “Excuse me?” Jaw hanging open, you turned to glare at him. Tom went on as if he hadn’t said a thing and it infuriated you.

“Did Olive tell you why she did what she did?” You repeated through gritted teeth, swiping jars and shakily unscrewing their lids. “She didn’t, no.” The brunette turned the wooden spoon without even the wave of his hand and you were finding it particularly distracting.

“Well I suppose I’ll have to ask her myself, then.” You raised the jar above the cauldron to empty its contents and Tom’s hand shot out to grab your wrist tightly, eyes on the book. “Stop this nonsense now.” You blinked at him sarcastically, “I’m not doing anything, Riddle.”

He pulled you close and with an all newly penetrative set of eyes, glared at you, lips thinned into an unamused frown and eyes wild with colour. “I don’t care how you handle yourself but while you’re with me you will handle yourself with poise, do you understand? I won’t have you tarnish my grades.” Riddle’s tone was low and menacing and yet somehow he was entrancing.

You nodded slowly, trying not to flinch away from his even breaths over your face. “I just want to be left alone.” You confessed, Tom had made you feel ashamed for being bullied, for being made a fool of.

“You’ve always responded exactly the ways they want you to,” Tom released you and passed, his robe caressing you gently and making you shudder. “You always give them a source of entertainment.”

You wanted to argue, to deny all of this, but you knew he was right and you blushed, feeling your pride crumble as you opened your mouth to speak. “What should I do?” Shifting uncomfortably at the silence, you forced your self to face Tom, who was looking from you to the cauldron and then back at you as if contemplating something.

“I wouldn’t know, that Hornby girl wouldn’t dare do to me as she did to you.” You swallowed loudly, you knew Tom was talented, more and more every day, but before your run-in with him you’d have never imagined he was threatening and wondered if he would become violent.

“Why?” You asked meekly and this seemed to for lack of a better word, brighten Tom’s mood - you’d sparked his interest, finally. A faint smirk found his lips and he tilted his head toward the cauldron.

“Because I’m smart,” he started, shrugging off his robe and folding it neatly on a nearby table. “I wouldn’t ever be caught in such vulnerable positions.” As if mentoring a child, he spoke to you in what you assumed was an unintentionally condescending tone. “You open yourself up to attack too often, Y/N. You always have.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “How would you know?” Tom’s smirk faltered for a moment as if he’d been caught out and it took a moment for you to catch on, your heart doing flips. “You’ve been keeping an eye on me?” You nearly whispered and Tom tutted, “Of course not, I hardly care that you spend your free time squabbling with Malfoy but the two of you get so loud it’s difficult not to notice.”

Heart thrumming, you nodded and turned your gaze to the cauldron, internally wishing to press more. Why did the knowledge that Tom had noticed you before this somehow make you feel accomplished? “He’s very easy to manipulate, but so are you.” You frowned, brows furrowed and lips pursed. “How am I easily manipulated?”

Tom’s dark eyes seemed to sparkle in the low light of the setting sun and from this angle, eyes hooded, lips curled, he looked breathtaking. “You just proved it. I called you easy and you reacted exactly as I expected.” You rolled your eyes and forced yourself to look elsewhere, fingertips tingling with a strange heat.

“Pouting is for children, Y/N.” You let out a long groan and dragged your fingers down your face, straightening it before turning to Tom and batting your lashes at him sarcastically. He didn’t seem amused.

You watched the potion brew in an uncomfortable silence, scolding yourself for ruining what conversation with Tom before kicking yourself - like you cared what he thought. You were forgetting too easily who he was and what he’d said to you hours earlier. With a renewed anger, you cleared your throat as the potion turned a dark, acidic green within the cauldron.

Riddle pulled his wand from his folded robes and gracefully traced a pattern above the steaming bowl and the flames extinguished, the spoon retreating from the bubbly liquid. "It looks adequate to me. I'll deliver this to Professor Slughorn this evening."

Riddle filled a small glass vial with the thick potion and hummed as he inspected it. "Tomorrow's detention will be in the library, Y/N. I trust you won't be distracted by some Ravenclaw or another."

It took all of your willpower not to shout in anger and so you stood there, sweating and shaking at his petty jab. "I'll see you then, Riddle."

Turning with heavy steps, you heaved angrily all the way to the dungeon and mispronounced the password several times in your frustration. By the time it opened you were already undoing your tie and freeing your hair, fingers running through it messily. You groaned and threw yourself onto your bed, rolling onto your stomach and hugging the pillow close.

Your mind went over everything one more time before you fell prey to exhaustion. You thought of the hex, the leeches, the bowtruckle, you thought of Abraxas, Olive, Sterling and then Tom. Your mind lingered on Tom and your confusing mindset around him. You contradicted yourself with him, you hated him but wanted to please him, to impress him so he would raise his perfectly shaped brow at you and smirk with his pale pink lips.

Shaking your head, you replaced him with that odd illustration from the book you'd read in the library. An Animagus, an interesting topic you'd never really paid any attention to before but was now suddenly speaking to you.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you smiled, you'd ask Sterling about the book the next time you saw him.

[withered-pages-blog]

Aeryn Aldridge 1/? (Junkrat/Jamison Fawkes Imagine)

(A/N: A special thank you to @aerynaldie for letting me use their OC for this story! I hope you like it so far!)

It wasn’t an easy thing, studying for years in medicine only for her talents to go to a vigilante justice team. Aeryn struggled before coming to a decision, brows furrowed thoughtfully.

“I understand that I have no right to ask this of you, Aeryn,” a comforting hand found her small shoulder and the girl looked up. “But I’ve known you for a long while now. I’ve watched you grow up into a fine young woman. I know you want to do what’s right, you want to help those in need.”

Angela smiled sadly at her pupil, her hand slipping as she turned away. “But this is very serious. If we’re caught by authorities, we’ll be punished. Severely.”

The sandy-brown girl felt guilty for wanting to refuse, she always imagined her talents would be used for something glamorous, something that would get her a lot of attention, a name even. But here she was, sitting quietly in her mentor’s office, being asked to break the law and abandon any dreams she had.

But then she looked up and nodded silently, “I’ll do it. I’ll help you, Angela.” The blonde smiled at Aeryn, “Not just me, but many others as well. Your sacrifice will not go unnoticed.”

That’s how Aeryn found herself in the unwanted company of two violent criminals. Taking cover behind an overturned car, the petite girl pressed her back against the cold metal, pistol tightly gripped between shaky hands. Her knees pressed anxiously into her chest, Aeryn let out a squeal as a hand gripped the back of her blue coat, dragging her from cover.

“Let me go!” She cried, flailing wildly and grasping at the hand that pulled her across the bloody pavement and into a nearby building.

“Calm down, kid,” a husky voice commanded and blue eyes met a red visor. “Seventy-six.” She breathed, blinking away tears, “Where is Angela? Is she alright?”

As if narrowing his eyes at the girl, she quickly corrected herself. “Mercy, I mean.”

“She’s with Winston at the moment, by the bay. She’s fine.” The mysterious man held his gloved hand out to Aeryn as offering, which she gladly took.

“What do we do, sir? I haven’t seen anyone since drop off. I got separated from Mercy after some renegades attacked us.”

“What did they look like?” The grey man turned from you to watch the mayhem unfold outside and Aeryn’s gaze fell onto the red blotchy spots on the back of his jacket. “Sir, you’ve been hit!”

Soldier looked back at her and then down to himself, pulling a glove off to reveal his fleshy hand and dipping it under his shirt. The man swayed for a moment before he fell flat on his face and Aeryn cringed at the crunch of his visor.

At his side in the blink of an eye, the medic worked her magic, pulling the bulky man’s clothes off and examining the wound. It was far worse than she realized, a deep rod of shrapnel protruded from his lower back and pulled away, gathering herself.

“Okay, Aldridge. You can do this.” Stripping herself of her metallic backpack, she flipped it open and gathered materials, setting them aside before picking up her pistol and twirling it in her hand, a way to switch stances - the dull red glow turning green.

A custom made pistol capable of having both an offensive and defensive stance created by a world renowned weapons designer,  Torbjörn Lindholm. A man she’d met who was more robot than human, Aeryn took an instant liking to the dedication he held for his work. A passionate man who told her that mistakes weren’t really mistakes, as you learned from them.

Turning her eyes to the slowly rising and falling of her superior’s back, Aeryn hovered the small pistol over the wound and with a low hum, the weapon began it’s slow charge up. When charged fully, a large burst of energy would shoot from it and into the direction it was pointed at, exploding and healing any allies in it’s radius with an area of effect. A shorter charge was a single-target version with the same healing effect and Aeryn always praised today’s technology. As well as Torbjörn‘s genius.

The inexperienced field medic had only ever needed to stick to her defensive stance once or twice since joining the secretive reformed Overwatch team, all full of war veterans and multi-geniuses alike. Aeryn was the baby of the team and she was never put in the front line, so for her to be alone with her possibly dying comrade, she was utterly terrified.

The soft green glow emitted from her pistol and the soft sizzle of flesh, the hot steam and familiar sweet scent of antibodies told her she was doing her job, she was helping. Soldier instinctively flinched and Aeryn had no choice but to straddle his thighs, one hand pressed against his shoulder and the other holding her pistol over his wound, the metal pulling from him as if by magic.

The man let out a loud groan and Aeryn spoke softly to him, “You’re alright, sir, just a bit more.” Just as the intrusive material clattered to the floor and her pistol cauterized the wound from the inside out, the entrance to the building shattered and glass flew everywhere.

Hands rising to shield herself, the girl screamed fearfully, throwing her body over Soldier to shield his. “You’ll be ‘right, Roadie. Just a few more steps.”

Green eyes shot up and Aeryn immediately twirled her pistol in her hand, green turning red as she pointed it at the two strangely familiar men who had just intruded on her surgery.

“Stay back!” Hands shaking, the girl examined the two. One, a burly man covered in tattoos, studs, ammunition belts and a menacing gas mask who towered over the average man by a full two feet. The other was hunched but still an intimidating height had some sort of terribly made gun that worked but was no where near aesthetically pleasing. He had wild blonde hair and equally wild golden es that darted around, one gliding in the opposite direction before he blinked it back at her.

“Don’t even think about it, mate, I’ll blow you to bits before you can even pull the trigger on that flashy lil’ thing.” The blonde threatened and Aeryn quivered violently.

“I-I mean it! Just turn around and walk the other way and no one has to get hurt.” Eyes falling to the man below, she reached over for the gauze and bandage, messily pressing it to him with one hand, the other pointing her weapon. “You’re a doctor?” The hunched man asked, brows raising as he slowly lowered his large companion onto the ground.

“C'mere,” Cold metal wrapped around Aeryn’s slender wrist and the girl gasped, swatting him away with her gun. “I’m busy, I have to help him!”

“I don’t ‘ave time for games right now, so sorry.” Aeryn parted her lips to inquire when with a painful thunk, everything seemed to die around her.

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Are you still writing ‘liar’ ?? I hope you are I love it sm bless you

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I WENT THROUGH AND READ ALL OF YOUR JUNKRAT STORIES. DAMMIT I WAS HOPING THERE WOULD BE MORE. I NEED MOREEEEE.

AAAAAAAH

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It Just Happened (Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort Imagine)

(A/N: Request for Tom Riddle angst! Female reader!)

You couldn’t remember how it started, just that you suddenly saw him one day - it just happened. You’d always found Tom Riddle to be handsome and like every other girl at Hogwarts you’d steal glances at him from the corner of your eye, but that meant little to you - he was just pleasing to look at.

Speaking to the boy was about as interesting as speaking to a windowpane. He was utterly dull and you’d find yourself making excuses to leave as soon as you couldn’t bare to pretend to be interested in the conversation anymore. Long story short, Tom Riddle was boring.

You hated boring.

But then one morning you woke up, dressed yourself, chatted with your roommates on the way to the Great Hall, taking your usual spot next to your closest friends, halfway up the table - and then it happened.

“Y/N, you’ll never guess who’s looking at you right now.” Your girlfriends huddled together and leaned forward, whispering to you, their eyes darting from you to something behind you.

Turning your head in the direction of their shared gaze, your eyes met with the most beautiful brown orbs you’d ever seen. Shaped by thick, long lashes that fluttered lightly as his stare intensified, you felt a painful burst of adoration for him explode within you.

“Tom Riddle is looking at you, Y/N!” You couldn’t look away, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t blink, you could only stare back at the handsome Slytherin who had somehow after years of going unthought of captured you entirely. The rest of the morning your heart furiously pounded in your chest, refusing to calm as you came to your only shared class with the Slytherin - or lack thereof. A free period that you knew he used to study in the library, a place you rarely went to.

Breaths coming out in short pants, you felt sweat begin to form on your brow and lower back and hoped it wasn’t prominent. You were almost sprinting through corridors, up stairs and past paintings that scolded you for running inside. You didn’t care, all that was on your mind was finding Tom Riddle. His face was the only thing you could see and his name was the only thing you could hear.

Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Tom, Tom, Tom.

“Tom!” You shouted as you burst into the library, eyes darting about as you rushed past book sections, frantically searching for the boy.

Practically sobbing, your heart threw itself around violently from beneath your rib cage and as you entered the far end of the library, there he was. Sitting with one leg folded over the other in his wooden desk chair, his eyes scanned over the pages of the book he held in his long, slender fingers.

What you did next was so unlike you, something your friends and family would absolutely not believe. You rushed to Tom, his name on your lips and your arms outstretched. Hands spread and gliding over his shoulders and gripping at the expanse of his broad chest. Your hands roamed all over Tom’s chest and stomach before coming up to cup his cheeks, pulling him into a desperate kiss you’d never needed before this day. As if expecting it, Riddle hummed approvingly into your mouth, book falling to the floor as his fingers wrapped around your wrists, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your robes.

“Tom,” you whimpered and the brunette chuckled, pulling away from you and watching your face carefully. “What’s gotten into you, Y/N? You’ve never been all too interested in me before.”

He was right, there was absolutely nothing natural about your sudden recognition of the boy you’d never cared for in your six years of knowing him - or knowing of him. “Of course I have!” You lied, hands shaking violently as tears welled in your eyes, you couldn’t control yourself.

“Please Tom, please,” you begged, tilting your head to kiss him again. Tom didn’t protest but he didn’t respond either and this made you panic. “I think I love you.”

Your lips trailed from his to his jawline where you whispered against his flesh. “I love you, Tom.” To your surprise, you felt the mysterious boy’s head tilt and you blushed wildly as a soft sigh left him. Pride swelled within you and you sucked dark blotches into his neck, knees quaking anxiously as you hovered above him.

“Do you love me, Y/N? Truly?” Tom asked softly and you unlatched yourself from him to meet his eyes, stroking his hair affectionately. “So, so much.” After your declaration of love to the Slytherin, you were rarely seen apart.

Hand-in-hand, the two of you went everywhere together and you even began spending time with his group of friends. You were so intent on pleasing him that you hardly noticed that you were spending less and less time with your own, not noticing their mourning of you.

“Y/N,” Tom called softly, fingertips tracing against the rosy flesh of your cheek, “I’ll return to you soon.” Crying softly, you threw yourself into your husband’s embrace. His long arms wrapped around you and his fingers ran though your hair.

“Will you long for me, dear?” You nodded furiously, sniffing as you sobbed into his vest. “Of course, my love. I long for you always.”

Tilting your head with his hand, Tom kissed you passionately and your fingers tangled into his thick waves. You continued to cry as you kissed him, lips pressing desperately into his. Your crying only ceased when you felt large hands slide up your blouse and over your swollen belly, fingers barely grazing your protruding belly button.

“I’ll definitely be here for our child,” he promised, “I simply cannot wait to meet him.” You scoffed, “It’ll be a girl.” Tom let out a low chuckle at your constant debate on your baby’s gender, he said boy, you said girl and it was a constant but playful battle. Hesitantly releasing you into the protection of the followers he’d accumulated since graduation, your husband Apparated from your sight, leaving you and your unborn baby alone in the old manor he’d claimed for himself after the murder of his muggle father and grandparents.

Weeks passed without word of Tom’s whereabouts in Albania and just as you were about to go in search for him despite his followers’ specific instructions to keep you within the manor, he returned. Face pale and eyes sunken in, Tom returned to you safely but somehow different and it troubled you deeply.

Standing in one of the many kitchens, preparing yourself a meal that would revolt anyone else, but your pregnant self demanded, you argued aggressively with the man who’s arms were lazily draped around you. “I feel fine, dear,” Tom said, “better than I’ve felt in years.”

“I know when you lie, Riddle. Don’t you know how worried I am about you? This quest of yours is getting out of hand,” you cut aggressively into your hideous sandwich and continued your rant on deaf ears. “You forget that we’re married, lovely.” The brunette teased and you scoffed, “What of it?”

Tom nuzzled into your neck and breathed in your scent, sighing deeply and squeezing you closer and you let out a low groan. “You’re so manipulati - ” Your handsome lover raised a brow at your unfinished sentence but only became alert when the dish you’d been holding slipped from your shaking hands and his eyes fell to the ground.

A puddle surrounded your shaking form and Tom wrapped himself around you, Apparating to an upstairs bedroom and carrying you to your shared bed. You shivered wordlessly there and didn’t protest when several others appeared into the room, men and women. The next eight hours were the most painful you’d ever experienced and no amount of magic could dull your agony.

You screamed, cried and begged for it to stop until your voice gave and even Tom’s usually calm demeanor was shaken. His hands cupped yours and you squeezed, screaming as you were commanded to push over and over and over.

You felt as if your body was about to break or split and despite all the tears flooding your eyes and the sweat running down your face, with one final heave you caught a glimpse of a writhing pair of legs. Head falling back, your eyes fluttered closed and the sound of a crying babe lulled you to sleep. You did it, you’d had your baby.

“Mother,” a soft voice called, “mother, I’m hungry.” You moaned softly, rubbing your lids roughly as you stirred in Tom’s arms.

Reaching out and pulling back the covers, you wriggles from your fleshy cage and slipped on your gown and slippers, smiling as your son’s hand slipped into yours. “What would you like, darling?”

Looking down at your five year old, you noted just how much he looked like his father. Dark brown hair framed his pale face and you felt your heart flutter every time those familiar brown eyes looked up at you. He was utterly gorgeous, just like his father - his father who was looking less and less like himself every day. You spent most of your time tending to your son and in return he was a well behaved, obedient boy.

And then one day, just as abruptly it had come, your love and devotion to your husband, the father of your beautiful baby boy, was gone. You packed your suitcase in the dead of night, gathering as many of your belongings as you could before waking your son, promising him you were going to take him somewhere wonderful. He gleefully accepted and you held him close, wand at the ready. You pulled off the dark ring Tom had given to you as your engagement ring and placed it on the bedside table.

You Apparated away. Far, far away in search for your long forgotten family with your son at your side, the feeling of being absolutely free and your own overwhelming you. You weren’t sure what happened, why you woke in a panic and the need to escape took over, but you knew it was right. Somehow you knew it was meant to be this way despite not knowing why.

It just happened.

[withered-pages-blog]

Liar 8/? (Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort Imagine)

The sound of shuffling was the first thing you remembered waking up, the second being the pain in your shoulders. Raising your head weakly, a soft grunt escaped your lips.

“Don’t move, Y/N.” You turned your eyes and blinked lazily at him - Riddle. “What are you doin’ to me?” You slurred softly.

“You fainted, again.” Stiffening up and clumsily standing on your own, you moaned, “Stop. I can walk.”

Dropping your arm as if it were ice-cold, Riddle straightened his robes. You turned to thank the other student who had assisted you but when your eyes met his blue ones, your gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?” You spat, shoulder leaning against the cobblestone wall.

“I’m helping you,” Abraxas smirked, “I think I deserve a little appreciation, don’t you?” Scoffing, you forced yourself to stand and waved the two off, “I feel fine, let’s just go back to class.”

“Your back was covered in leeches, Y/N. You most likely fainted from loss of blood and you need to see the matron.” Tom said, inspecting the wall behind you. “How many?” You paled, stomach flipping unpleasantly.

“At least ten.” Malfoy’s smirk widened, “They were full with your blood.” You whipped your head around and clenched your jaw, the blonde looked satisfied with your response and he stepped closer to you. “I wonder how they got there.”

Your face reddened with anger at his indirect confession and with shaky hands, you shoved him out of the way. “Y/N,” you heard him sing-song at you teasingly from afar and your breathing became labored.

Breaths became shorter and louder with every step you took and as you came to the doors of the hospital wing that familiar warm, wet sensation tickled your cheeks. You stood there and cried, fists balled up, face scrunched hideously and hair falling in your face. Quivering in your robes sorrowfully, clenching your eyes shut and raising a fist to wipe at your wet face, you focused on steadying your breathing - only to gasp in fright at the sound of a young girl.

“Why are you crying?” You whipped around, back against the door and wide-eyed, “What could you possibly be crying for? Nothing you’re going through could be worse than what I’m going through.” Blinking away tears, you examined the girl.

Pale skin with a broad face framed by thick, round rimmed glasses. Her dark brown hair was pulled into two ponytails and her blue and white tie did nothing to bring any attention to her. Had she not spoken to you, you’d have never noticed her at all - she practically faded into the walls behind her.

“I’m not crying,” you defended, “and I don’t think this should be a competition.“ The girl watched you carefully, arms crossed and eyes puffy, “I cry a lot.” You snorted, “Good for you.”

Turning to the door, you pushed against it weakly, stepping into the unfortunately familiar room. “Who’s there?” The woman called from behind a curtain. “Myrtle,” The Ravenclaw girl called and you shot her a glare, “Y/N.” You added bitterly.

“You two can’t stay away for long, can you.” She joked as she revealed herself, “Alright Y/N, what seems to be the problem?” The Ravenclaw, Myrtle, gawked at the two of you, “B-But what about me?”

The matron looked exasperated, “I’ll get to you in a moment, Miss Warren.” Myrtle huffed as she sat down on the end of a bed, folding one leg over the other and watching you with squinty eyes.

Brushing her off, you grabbed the curtain and pulled it across the bed, shielding yourself from the nosy girl. “I was in potions, ma'am,” you began undoing your tie and unbuttoned your white shirt which was dotted with blood.

Turning to expose your back, the matron gasped, “What happened, dear? Who did this?” She inspected your bruises flesh, “Is it bad?” You asked anxiously, “These look like bite marks.” Frowning, you hummed, “Someone put leeches down my back in class. I guess there were a lot.” The woman’s soft fingers traced your lower back and she tutted, “I fainted once I felt them moving but Riddle thought it might be due to blood loss, insisted I come here.”

“That boy really has kept an eye on you, hasn’t he? Such a sweet young man.” You grimaced at that but agreed reluctantly. “Am I going to be alright, ma'am?”

Tie in hands, you traced the stripes on them absentmindedly as you thought back to potions. “I think so, dear. Do you know who did this?”

“I do, ma'am.” You jumped as the top of a head full of silky brown hair revealed itself from above the curtain. “Tom!” Myrtle gushed and you watched the silhouettes moving behind the white material.

He towered over her and she stood closely to him, “What are you doing here? He admitted it?” You threw the curtain open without thinking and instantly regretted it. Eyes meeting with his, Tom narrowed his gaze for the briefest of moments before turning his head and clearing his throat.

Tossing it shut, you shook profusely and your entire body felt as if it were on fire. “She admitted it.” Trying your best to brush off your humiliating action, you lifted your shirt over you shoulders, buttoning it as you spoke. “She? Who?”

Myrtle huffed and you saw her pigtails sway as she turned, “Olive Hornby.” Riddle answered, paying no mind to the girl by his side. “Olive is always being mean to me!” The Ravenclaw declared. “Olive put the leeches down my robes? Are you sure?”

Grabbing the curtain and pulling it aside, Tom examined your surprised face, wide-eyed and lips parted. “But she wasn’t even - ”

“She was behind us, partnered with Abraxas.” Your eyes narrowed and you scoffed, “Of course she was. I’m so sick of him.”

Myrtle took a step forward, nose scrunched, “Sick of who?” Her tone was constantly whiny and every time she spoke you cringed. “None of your business.” You snapped and the girl flinched, bowing her head submissively. A moment of silence passed and your stomach welled with guilt.

Sighing, you yielded and slumped onto the bed, “Malfoy,” you started, “We’ve hated each other for years and he’s always going out of his way to mess with me.” The brown haired girl’s eyes softened and her arms unfolded, “Isn’t he your friend, Tom?”

You clenched your fists, you’d completely forgotten the two were associated. Seeing them together at the front of Slytherin table was one thing but Abraxas actually followed Tom around like his own shadow.

“We’re acquainted, yes.” He admitted, “I just stopped by to tell you that Hornby is going to be punished by the Headmaster personally, so I’ll be going now.”

You nodded, heart dropping at the thought of him leaving. “What about our grade on that practical lesson?” The brunette raised a brow at you, “We’ll have to do it again, we were pardoned temporarily. We’ll finish that while you serve your detention after classes today.” Your heart dropped even lower and you blinked up at your classmate, who stared back at you blankly before his lips curled into a faint smirk, “You didn’t forget did you, Y/N?”

You wanted to protest, to complain or somehow weasel your way out of it, but you knew the sooner you went the sooner you’d be able to go to your room and just sleep the day off. You simply didn’t have the energy to argue.

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Writer's block.

I'm struggling to put what I come up with in my head into words at the moment, obviously this will pass but I'm really sorry for not updating and I'm working on some things to fix that. Thanks for your ongoing support!