#christian coulson
Text
KNOW YOU LIKE I DO | tom riddle
summary; love letters are tom's way of communicating. unfortunately, he's not as good with his actions.
word count; 7036
notes; another one that I said was gonna be short and it wasn’t. I think I’m physically incapable of writing short fics, actually.
Dear Tom,
Tommy.
My Tom.
Do you still have that first letter I wrote to you, back in summer? No, I suppose you don’t, that’s not very like you.
I’m drunk. Just a little bit (a lot), and I can’t take it anymore. Mattheo told me to tell you how I feel, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. He’s asleep on my bed right now, drooling into my favourite pillow waiting for me to write this.
So here it is.
I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m in love. And it’s all your fault.
Staring across the crowded room, your eyes fixed back onto that of Tom Riddle. It wasn’t hard to spot him, not as he was the only man who came to a Christmas party dressed in all black and sat alone, brooding. His lips were pressed into a line, the lights bouncing off of those shiny curls, green and red splashed across his pale skin as he sipped at his drink, listening to the conversation Draco and Blaise were having, but never participating.
Your heart lurched a little in your chest, just the mere sight of him had a thousand different feelings rearing their heads, and you sighed to yourself. Shaking your head, your attention was redirected to the drinks table, pouring yourself an extra strong helping of Giggle Gin and topping it off. The urge to look back over was strong, and you steadfastly ignored it, suppressing the urge and instead, turning your back to his direction, walking towards the group of girls giggling in the opposite corner.
Taking your seat back in the comfy corner of the sofa, Pansy offered you a smile, her arm looped over Luna’s shoulders as the blonde cuddled into her side. Astoria was currently recounting the intimate details of her latest night with Draco, and you hid a smile in your cup as you tuned back into the conversation.
You lost the battle with your will, however, gaze moving directly back across the room to Tom. He had a slight smirk on his face now as he watched Draco speak, and you did not doubt that he was receiving a tale of the exact same encounter Astoria was currently telling, only from a different point of view.
Blonde cut across your vision, the perfect smile of Daphne blocking your view as she sat in front of you, severing any sights of Tom you might have had. “You know,” She started, grinning as she took a sip of your drink cheekily, before handing it back. “If you stare at him any harder, you’re gonna’ drill holes in the side of his head.”
You could only scoff, but no argument formed. Lately, all you’d been able to do was stare longingly at him across any room. You weren’t subtle, and you’d never been much good at hiding your feelings. Which seemed fitting, since you’d fallen for someone who was like a blank slate, permanently.
Tom Riddle was a harder book to read than a tablet written in a never-before-discovered language.
“He looks so… miserable, Daph.”
She glances over her shoulder at him, snorting a laugh, and turning her attention back to you. “Because Tom Riddle doesn’t go to parties, and he’s probably counting the minutes until he can leave.” She smirked a little, shuffling closer, perched on the edge of her seat as she leaned in, “At least, he didn’t go to parties. Until you, that is.”
Your cheeks flushed, a subtle hint at the running joke your friendship group had taken on. They’d all become convinced that Tom attended parties for you, ever since he’d been a willing guest for the first time at Draco’s end-of-summer bonfire bash, and spent the majority of the night talking with you. They refused to let it go.
“You should go over there and cheer him up. I bet he’d be smiling in no time if you gave him a little attention.”
That was exactly the problem. You’d been giving him a little too much attention, and now, everyone was painfully aware of your feelings for him. Except for him, maybe. Either that, or he was just very good at pretending he didn’t notice, in a chance to let you down gently. You didn’t know which option was worse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daph.”
“No, you don’t be ridiculous! You and him are… something else.” She took your free hand in hers, squeezing tightly. All amusement melted from her face, and she gave you a serious look. The expression she wore when advising her sister on Draco, or comforting Pansy after a panic attack. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened over the summer, or are you just going to keep acting like it wasn’t some cataclysmic shift?”
“So dramatic.” You hummed to your roommate.
“Still pretending, I see.” She teases lightly, but her brows are still furrowed. She waited a few more seconds, to see if you’ll crack. All you do is hold her steady gaze, and take a sip of your drink. With a sigh, she released your hand, and leans back in her chair. “Well, whatever. We can all see it, see how you two pine for one another, and how perfect you’d be together. Just go and talk to him! He’s probably sat over there waiting for you anyway. He had that exact same kicked-puppy expression on at the summer party, until you walked in.”
“He did not…” You murmur, the very thought making you blush.
“I think that’s the first time I ever saw Tom Riddle smile. A real smile, not the smile he gets when threatening someone, or when Mattheo falls over. A good smile.”
“Now you’re just making him out like some kind of sulky villain.” You retort, and she only raises a brow at you.
“Here, take him this box, and go talk to him. The poor boy looks lost over there without you.” Reaching under her chair, Daphne produces a familiar box, wrapped neatly in black paper with dark green ribbon, and your jaw drops.
“Daphne!—” Reaching out to snatch it from her, your brows furrow. “Did you go through my things?”
“I didn’t exactly go through your things,” She grins, watching you turn over the label with his name written on neatly. “I just watched you hide it under your bed and got curious… it smells good. Is it cookies? Can I have one?”
When she reaches for the box, you slap the back of her hand, and she sticks her tongue out at you in return. “No! You cannot, you little snoop!”
“Fine! If you won’t let me have a cookie, then you have to go over there. You either give me a cookie, or you give me the satisfaction of seeing you and him smile.” Her arms crossed, her tone annoyed but her words caring, and love shone in her gaze as she stared at you. “Go on. Go over to him. Please.”
It wasn’t like you didn’t already want to, and with her encouragement, you were a weak woman to say no. Downing the rest of your drink for a little liquid courage, you hop to your feet, present clutched in your hands.
Weaving through the room, the bass notes of Mattheo’s custom-made playlist pumped through the room from the speakers, a playlist you might have slightly altered a few days ago to add a couple of songs, just to mix up his usual tastes. Your stomach was twisting nervously, but the alcohol in your veins made for a pleasant buzz as the distance between you both closed.
After almost taking a ping-pong ball to the eye, courtesy of Theo on the beer-pong table, you cleared the games and settled into the pleasant atmosphere surrounding where the boys had set themselves up for the evening by the fire. When you approached, Tom looked up, frown melting away as the crease between his brows disappeared, and he sat up a little straighter as you approached.
“Hi, doll,” He murmured, shifting his arm from the armrest of the chair, so that you could take a seat on it instead. That same arm soon wrapped around your waist, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, and your heart skipped a beat within your chest. “Where’ve you been?”
“Over there, with Daph and the girls.” You whisper in reply, balancing the box on your thighs, and pointing through the crowds to the barely visible patch of chairs and sofas you’d all been occupying. He only hummed, squeezing you a little closer.
“Stay here with me for a while?”
“Sure,” Your voice hardly worked as you spoke, emotions clogging up, and you reached for the gift in your lap. “I have this for you, anyway. I made you those cookies you like so much.”
“You did?” His head lifted, and one of those pretty smiles that made your heart stop clean in your chest was adorning his lips. “The ones with the orange peel and the dark chocolate?”
“Those very ones.” You handed it to him, and he tugged at the ribbon covering the box, fingers flipping under the seals of the paper until it fell openly neatly. Flicking open the catch on the cardboard box, the smell of freshly baked treats filled the air, and he made a rumbling noise of happiness as he plucked on up, and took a bite. As you laughed at him, he took another, pushing it between your lips with a smirk while he chewed.
He resealed the box, savouring them, as he did all things, and putting them on the table in front of himself. You held the cookie now, eating it slowly, as Draco and Blaise finally seemed to become aware of your presence.
“I have a question.” Draco started, and your gaze moved to him, brow raising as you took the final bite. “Is Astoria over there talking about me?”
The blond smirked, and you twisted, lifting your legs to sit over Tom, ankles crossing on the opposite arm. “No, no. She’s been recounting a scene from a book.”
“What?”
“Yeah. You know, the fun books. It was really, really hot.” You teased, fanning yourself, and Tom chuckled, reaching over you for his drink, and taking a sip. Instead of putting it back down, he rested the cool glass on your thigh, his free hand coming to sit on your calf, rubbing lightly as you shivered at the touch. “Why? You think you’re better than a good spicy romance?”
“I know I am!” Draco huffed, and Blaise rolled his eyes, watching you wind his best friend up with barely a few words at all. “What book is this?”
“Oh, you don’t want to know…”
“I do want to know! Tell me!” His cheeks were turning pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears. In the spirit of Christmas, you took pity on him, rolling your eyes.
“I think it was called… Astoria’s Diary.”
It took a few seconds for it to register in Draco’s mind, and the furious pink turned to an embarrassed red, and he shook his head, eyes narrowed at you. “I despise you.”
“You love me.” You fired back, and he scoffed, but the edges of his lips pulled at a smile, and he looked away to cover it. Settling back a little more, you leaned into the cushion, feeling Tom roll his head across the cushion to lean in your direction.
“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week.” He says, voice low for only you to hear, and your head twists towards him You were close, close enough to pick out the different coloured flecks of colour in his eyes as he looked at you, and the hardly visible steaks of lighter brown that trailed naturally through his dark curls.
“Well, I’ve had detention all week, thanks to a certain someone.” You poked his chest, and he only smirked a little bit, shuffling his head a fraction closer.
“I needed you, what can I say?”
“You needed someone to keep a lookout while you snuck into the restricted section again. Why did it have to be me?” You scoffed, working to keep the smile on your face as the answer to your own question flickered through your mind. He chose you because he knew you’d drop everything and come, the voice taunted; you buried it under the song playing and the laughter in the room so you didn’t have to think about it...
“Don’t act like you didn’t have fun when we ran.” He chuckled, hand sliding up your leg again, fingers lacing with your own. The same way they had when you’d been caught, and he’d grabbed your hand, the two of you ducking and weaving between stacks, fleeing through the corridors. Laughing and out of breath, he’d clutched your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles just like he was doing now, staring at you with those pretty eyes.
You hadn't been caught, but you had gotten detention for skipping class to go with him, and so you’d spent all five nights of your final week in detention, writing lines. You lifted your free hand, sighing with a nod, and running it through his curls. His eyes fluttered, head tipping back to follow your hand, and a content smile took over his lips.
You loved to see him like this, to see him so carefree and happy, to see him relax at just your touch. You’d never seen him like this before. The thought that only you could do it to him sent a thrill down your spine, made your thoughts feel hazy and slow, like treacle in your mind, and your nerves tingled. So, why had he never made a move to make it anything more? You’d given him a dozen chances, a dozen more opportunities…
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you this holiday.” He broke your train of thought, eyes opening again to peer up at you, and his lips became a frown as he thought about it. “My father is going to pile on the pressure not that I’m in my graduating year. I can already feel the headache forming right between my eyes.”
“Oh..” You coo, hand slipping down from his hair to rub your thumb over his forehead, the space you know him to get stress headaches the worst, when he works too hard or gets wound up. He just chuckled, eyes sliding shut once again.
The song changed, and his body tensed underneath you for just a second, before his eyes snapped open, gaze locked on you. “This is my favourite song.”
“Is it?” You mumble, finger still tracing lightly over his skin, and he nods.
“I didn’t think Mattheo put it on the playlist. I asked him, and he very emphatically said no.”
“Maybe he changed his mind.” Your shrug doesn’t convince him, not as you both hear Mattheo question the song with a stream of curses somewhere in the distance. His lips twitched at the edges, a small smile, but he said nothing else. Instead, he leaned in, your arm going around his shoulders, rubbing softly as his head nestled onto your shoulder, a sigh on his lips.
It was perfect, just like this. If he could just open his eyes and see, he’d know how wonderful it could be. Nobody knew him like you did, he’d made sure to keep his secrets locked up tight. But over the months of exchanging letters, and candle-lit nights in the library, he’d bore so much of his soul to you.
Deep, wounded parts, that you’d tried to put back together.
Soft, tender parts that he protected so valiantly, but trusted you with.
Sweet, loving parts, that never saw the light of day, unless you were together.
It was impossible, surely, that he didn’t know. He might keep his feelings locked up tight, but you didn’t hide yours very well at all. As you sat here now, fingers weaving through his hair, lips tracing his temple as you whispered nonsense to him about your day, his head on your shoulder, that he didn’t know. Even a man like Tom Riddle couldn't miss it, right?
You just wanted to make him happy, but he didn’t feel the same.
With a heart-aching sigh, you ran your fingers through his curls one more time. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your night. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your Christmas. You would not be one of those girls who gave in to their feelings, and crumbled at the feet of a man who didn’t return her affections.
Sitting up some more, he grumbled at the disruption, blinking his eyes back open as he lifted his head again. “I’m… I’m going to go dance, and play some games, okay?”
“Alright,” He smiled, patting your thigh and lifting his drink away. “Have fun. I’ll probably leave soon. If I don’t see you again, just know I’ll be thinking of you over these holidays. We’ll write again.”
His words send a rush of heat to your cheeks, a tumble of nerves through your stomach, and you could only nod. One more chance, one more chance to make a move…
“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. A kiss that was purposefully close to the edge of his mouth, a kiss that purposefully lingered just a second too long as you pulled away slowly, giving him a chance to turn his head, to close the gap, to kiss you—
But he didn’t, he only smiled. “Merry Christmas, doll.”
So, you stand. You brush it off. You brush off the moment, and the feelings, and all the disappointment and heartbreak that came with it.
But I can’t do it anymore.
We’ve been housemates for seven years, we’ve been friends for half of those, and I’ve been in love with you for months.
But you don’t love me. Mattheo says you do, says you’re just stupid when it comes to feelings. But, even you couldn't miss how I feel about you.
So, I’m letting you go.
New Year, New Me, New Heart.
“No, your dorm is that way.” You giggle, Mattheo’s arm over your shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the boy’s dorms and pointing. “My dorm is this way!”
“No, you’re wrong!” He mutters, shaking his head dramatically. “Boys to the left,” He says, pointing right, “Girls to the right, because girls are always right!”
“Well, I won’t argue with you there.” You grin, spinning him around. “Wait, now I’m confused. Who’s dorm were we going to again?”
A few too many shots, a few more drinks than your limit at the beer-pong table, and as the last of the party was dying down, you and Mattheo were attempting to stumble back to your dorms. “Theo’s.”
“Right. But why are we going to Theo’s dorm?”
“Because he’s my friend,” Mattheo said. “And also, his bed is next to mine.” Another fit of laughter, drunken giggles melting away, and the two of you collapsed down against the wall, heads tipped back to the stone as amusement took over. When you finally caught your breaths once again, he was smiling, eyes sparkling in that unique Matty-way. Kicking his legs out before himself, he sighed. “Maybe I will just sleep here.”
“You can’t sleep here.”
“Why?” He pouted, and you searched through your foggy mind for a reason.
“Because you have to sleep in a bed.” Is what you settled on, shrugging your shoulders, even if you were getting a little bit too comfy against the stone too.
“Can I sleep in your bed?” He wiggled his brows, smirking, before burping, and you giggled again.
“No, you may not.”
“Why?” He whined, kicking one leg like a toddler in a tantrum. “You have fluffy pillows.”
“And you have sheets that haven’t been washed in months.” Your nose screwed up, and he let out a dramatic, wounded sound, like a soldier who had just been shot in a war movie.
“That was cold.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Not as cold as the frozen Earth Tom would bury my wee little body in if I spent the night at your dorm.”
You didn’t respond, the mention of his name was like a bucket of ice over your head. Not exactly sobering, but shocking.
“I’m saying he would murder me.”
“Yes, I understood.”
“You didn’t laugh.” He pouted, and you chuckled for his benefit. “No, it’s not real. Now I feel like I begged for it.”
“You did.”
“You suck.”
“You swallow.” You sighed, and he groaned once again, another argument lost. His head rolled to your shoulder, his body slumping into relaxation.
“So… what is the deal with you and my brother?” His lips twisted as he thought about it, but he looked up at you curiously, frown only deepening at the sad look on your face.
“There is no deal.” You shrug, “He doesn’t want me like that. We’re just friends.”
“Yeah,” He snorts, “And the sky isn’t blue.”
“I’m serious, Matty. I’ve given him a hundred chances. He could’ve made a move anytime. I haven’t exactly kept my feelings to myself, all you fools can see my heart dripping and bleeding on my sleeve. He knows, he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.” Your lungs burned for air at the end of your speech, and you took a deep breath, staring ahead at the chipping bricks in an attempt to avoid tears. “Why doesn’t he want me, Matty?”
“He does,” Mattheo mumbled, taking your hand in his and squeezing. “He’s just a fucking moron. But, he’s also scared. You know, you’re pretty much all he talks about? And, I never saw him smile so much as he did during the summer, when he’d receive your letters. He’d get all anxious and fidgety every day, waiting for the mail owl to arrive. He’s never going to make the first move. He’d rather suffer for all his life but have you like this, than risk losing you entirely.”
The words felt like a warming blanket and an ice-cold lake. Comforting and terrifying, sweet and burning, all at the same time.
Mattheo huffed a laugh, “Maybe you should write him a love letter.”
“Maybe I should…” You whisper, drunken thoughts taking over, and his head snapped up.
“I was joking.”
“I’m not. That’s a good idea. I should write him a letter, and tell him that I’m moving on.” You brushed your legs off as you stood, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet, determined.
“Okay, that’s not what a love letter is. That’s so far from what I said—”
“Let’s go!” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along behind you as you made your way through the halls.
“Now? Why are we doing it now? We should be sleeping now!” His protests fell on deaf ears as you dragged him along. Throwing open the door to your room, Daphne was already asleep, still in her party dress, face down on her pillow, out cold from the night’s festivities and snoring.
Mattheo collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto his side and clutching a fluffy cushion to his chest as he curled into a ball.
“I’ll just wait here, then.” He yawned through his words, but you were too busy to care, scrambling for a pot of ink and some new parchment. Taking a seat at your desk, you stared at the paper, quill hovering, ready to write.
So, I will spend the end of this year away from you. You say we’ll write, but I don’t want to.
Only write to me, Tom, if you feel the same. If not, don’t. Let me heal, and when we come back in the New Year, I promise, nothing will change except for my heart.
We will still be friends, best friends, and we’ll never talk about it again.
I will wait for you.
Finishing the letter, you sighed at it, the ink drying and immortalising your words onto the page. Sitting before you was the sum total of what sat in your heart, and your mind. Laid out and ready to go, your hands trembled a little as you read it over, and over, to be sure.
But you had to do this, you had to give this letter to him, to alleviate the strain on your heart, to finally have some closure. Whether he felt the same or not, you’d have relief. Folding it carefully, you searched a strip of wax seal lighting the end and waiting for it to get hot, drips of Slytherin green filling into a pool that overlapped the edge of your paper. When there was enough, you stamped it carefully, sealing it shut as the wax cooled.
Taking a look behind you, you caught sight of a sleeping Mattheo, his jaw hanging open, drooling onto your favourite throw pillow, half tucked under your blankets from where he’s only bothered to cover his legs. Peeling away the wax seal, you walked over to him, shaking his shoulder, until he awoke with a huff and a groan, whining as he sat up.
“I was dreaming.”
“I wrote the letter.” You show him the proof, and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, glancing from it, to you, and back. “You have to give it to him.”
“Now?”
“No! Not now. Tomorrow. After we get off the train.” He blinked a little more, waking up from his power nap and taking the paper from you. Flipping it over in his hands, he inspected Tom’s name across the front, no address, and raised his brows.
“Why don’t you mail it?”
“That’ll take days, and I don’t want to leave it up to chance. I need you to give it to him, tomorrow. I know you’ll be swamped with everything your father expects of you both this time of year, events and frivolities and all, but you have to. I don’t want it getting lost amongst other letters and Christmas cards, and such.” Your hands clasped together before you, blinking at him pleadingly, and hoping your puppy-dog eyes were half as good as his.
He sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself as he stood.
“Please, Matty.”
“Fine. I’ll give it to him.” He caved, and you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.
“Tomorrow? After you get off the train?”
“Yes. I will give Tom the letter… tomorrow.”
Yours,
If you want me,
(y/n) x
Tom double-checked his bags, sighing as he zipped up the piece of luggage he’d actually have access to on the train, everything he needed to survive a six-hour train journey. A knock sounded from the door, a signature one that only Mattheo ever used, excessively long and irritating, and the door swung open a second later to reveal his brother.
Placing his carry-on down on the bed beside his own, Mattheo slumped out on his freshly-stripped bed. “You took your bags to the carriage already?”
“I got up early.”
“Surprising, I thought I’d have to drag you out of your bed this morning considering how much you drank last night.” He gave his brother a look, a single brow raised, and Mattheo just huffed.
“It’s called having fun, you should try it sometime.”
Tom only rolled his eyes, gaze scanning across the bag Mattheo had abandoned, snagging on the letter sticking out of one pocket. T— was all that was visible. It might have been a card, that someone had addressed it to ‘Theo’ instead of Mattheo, but everyone called him ‘Matt’ if they wanted a nickname, to avoid confusion with Nott.
Curiosity ate at him, and nudging the bag subtly revealed just enough more to show an ‘O’.
Definitely Tom, then. Mattheo was carrying a letter for him, and had not delivered it. Before he could pluck it from the pocket, his brother was sitting up, reaching for his bag and getting to his feet, swinging the letter out of his reach inadvertently.
“Ready to go?”
“Is that letter for me?” Tom burst instead, making another move for the bag. His suspicions were only confirmed when Mattheo shifted his body, pulling the arm carrying the bag away from him, behind his body and out of Tom’s reach. “Why do you have it? When did it arrive?”
Mattheo turned casually, looking down at it, patting it and pushing it back into the bag, deeper. Tom recognised that handwriting now, though, and the urgency swelled. “Uh… last night, I think. But I was a little drunk, so…”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?” Tom pressed, biting his tongue from yelling at his brother, and Mattheo just shrugged.
“Figured I’d give it to you on the train, or something. Or when we got home. It’s just a letter.”
“Yeah…” Tom could only hum in response, his mind spinning a little. Everyone had exchanged gifts and goodbyes last night, before the party. For exactly this reason, to avoid the morning rush to the train, to avoid the hassle in the morning. “But— I saw her last night. Why wouldn't she just give it to me then? Or mail it to me?”
The questions were ceaseless, almost making Tom dizzy as he tried to think them through, and Mattheo could only shrug, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself.
“I don’t know, Tom. She just came to me, and asked me to give you that letter because she didn’t want it to get lost amongst other letters, or take too long, or something like that.” It was a small lie, really, fabricated from aspects of the truth.
“So, it’s important, then! It’s obviously important if she couldn't risk it getting lost, if it had to be hand-delivered! I should read it.” Just like that, Tom stepped right into Mattheo’s trap. Now all he had to do was pull the pin, and let the steel jaws snap shut. Yes, it could potentially backfire hugely, but Mattheo was looking on the positive side for this.
“We have to go, Tom. Everyone else has probably already left for the train.” Mattheo swung his bag again, making his point, and kicked Tom’s suitcase from where it sat beside the door towards him to pick up. “Let’s go.”
Tom sighed, grabbing his bags and taking a few steps after him, and didn’t even make it over the threshold of the door before he gave in. His bags dropped from his hands, and planted on his hips instead. “I’m going to read it.”
“Tom—”
“Give me the letter.” He held out his pal, and Mattheo tipped his head to the side, but pressed his lips together to hide a grin. “I’ll catch up, you go. I’ll read it and I’ll catch up, it’s only a letter, can’t take that long.”
He lunged for Mattheo's bag, snatching the crisply pressed paper from the pocket before his brother could stop him. As he turned away, he missed Mattheo’s victorious smile. “Alright, I’ll take your trunk down. Don’t be long, or you’ll miss the train.” And you’ll miss her, were Mattheo’s unspoken words, as he grabbed Tom’s suitcase and disappeared, leaving him alone.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tom’s hand shook a little. The paper felt like it weighed a thousand tons. There was so much unspoken mystery behind it that Tom was sure whatever this letter said, it was not their usual correspondence. Not the chatty, friendly, borderline flirty letters they’d send each other when apart, this was more.
Sliding his thumb neatly under the wax seal he was so familiar with, Tom popped open the letter, unfolding it carefully and flipping it around to read.
His gaze scanned over the paper, lips flicking up at the use of the nickname he only allowed you to use, the swirl of your handwriting that he loved so much. The smile didn’t last long, however, and neither did the breath in his lungs as his chest seized. He read it.
Over and over again, he read the letter.
The minutes melted past as he absorbed what it said, until he could read the letter word for word without looking at it, tattooed into his mind now like a brand. With trembling fingers, he folded the letter back up carefully, lifting the paper to his lips as his eyes slid shut.
His heart was pounding, more so than he’d ever felt. Tom was not one for rash decisions and sudden jumps, everything was calculated and thought through and planned. But this, this was you. This is just what you did, forced him to let go of routine and be spontaneous, forced him to be carefree, to loosen the grip he had on the reigns, to show him he wouldn't fall apart at the slightest breeze.
He smiled against the letter, thoughts of you flicking through his mind.
And then a clock chimed, and he jumped violently within as he was rushed back to reality in a split second. The clock in the common room chimed loudly, echoing through the empty dorms and halls.
Rushing to his feet, Tom opened his bag, tucking the letter safely inside one of his books to preserve it, to tuck it inside the box of letters from you that was tucked under his bed at home. You doubted him, his feelings, unsure he’d kept that first letter, when in reality, he’d kept every single one.
Every letter, every note, even the silly little joke you scribbled on torn-off pieces of paper and threw at him in class, he kept them all.
Zipping his bag back up and grabbing it, he had no time to spare, racing to the chimes of the clock through the castle, to the front gates where the final carriage was leaving.
It felt too long. Too long as the horses plodded through the snow, too long as the wheel scrolled slowly, and his foot tapped agitatedly on the floor in a way he never allowed himself to do. His thumbnail was between his teeth, flicking between the frost-covered ground and his bag, wondering if it would actually be faster to run there himself.
Ahead, the train sounded its horn. The final warning for all students to begin boarding and settling in, because they’d be departing soon.
You watched as the trunks were beginning loaded onto the train, all to be collected when you arrived in London, only letting out a breath of relief as Mattheo rounded the corner, finally joining your group.
“Matty! About time, we were worried you’d miss the train.” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he sighed, a little out of breath, and hugged you back once he dropped the two bags in his hands. Nobody followed him, and your brows furrowed, pulling back, “Where’s Tom?”
“He’s probably already on the train, sulking somewhere. He’s never late.” Theo snickered, and you rolled your eyes, smacking him across the shoulder for his joke.
“Blaise is inside holding a cabin for us, is Tom not sitting with us?” Enzo questioned, and you turned to Mattheo, waiting for answers.
“He’ll be here, trust me.”
“He’s late?” Draco asked, quickly followed by Enzo and Theo, all discussing it. Regulus stayed quiet, smoking and trying to hide it from being seen, but his expression was just as concerned as everyone else’s.
The chatter continued on, by your worry didn’t cease, checking up and down the platform as people bustled and crowded it. Saying their final goodbyes and giving out hugs, climbing on and off the train as they all wished one another Merry Christmas, and being unable to see either end was causing your anxiety to rocket higher.
The train horn blared again, and students began to board. “Mattheo, seriously, where is he—” Just like that, you saw him, the busy platform parting to let him through, the look on his face as terrifying as ever, and people moved out of his way as he made his way towards your group.
“Told you he’d be here,” Mattheo smirked, and you raised a brow.
“The hell did you say to him this morning, Matt?” Regulus questions.
“He looks mad,” Draco murmured.
“He looks like he’s plotting.” Enzo corrected.
Every step closer rose the tension as Tom finally looked up, his sights setting on you, and his jaw clenched. Brows drawn in, he did look like he was plotting, like a thousand thoughts were racing through his mind that he couldn't sort through.
“Hey, man. We thought you were gonna’ miss the—” Draco’s words cut off at your squeak, as Tom stepped closer, never stopping the movements of his body until he was cupping your cheeks, his mouth descending upon your own.
You were almost knocked backwards from the force of it, your hands gripping at his shoulders as he bent you over backwards, a kiss so intense your knees almost went weak.
It was desperate, you could barely keep up, kissing back as best you could through your shock, until it wore off enough to reciprocate. Wrapping one arm around his neck, your other slipped to his face, his own hands making their way down, to band around your waist and pull you in closer, until your bodies were flush.
His tongue licked into your mouth, a sigh escaping you as he did, and your heart pounded against your heart, the same way he was doing, felt through his jumper and layers. The boys were whistling, cheering and hooting, and if you weren’t so happy you’d have been embarrassed by the show they were making, and the attention they were no doubt drawing.
When he finally pulled back, you panted softly, his forehead resting on your own, blinking his eyes open to meet your gaze.
“Can I write to you regardless?” He mumbled, voice rough and tense with emotion, and your brows furrowed.
“Wh— What?”
He leaned in, not helping you clear your dazed mind at all as he kissed you again, and again, until you were smiling, fingers clenched so tight in his coat that your knuckles were white, just to stay upright.
You pecked his lips once more, chasing him as he pulled back, and the train horn sounded, a final warning, but you didn’t care. “You know how I feel now. You don’t have to wait for my reply. You can be assured that I will miss you dearly over these two weeks, and I am already counting the minutes until I see you again. But can I write to you, still?”
As the realisation set in, your face flamed, jaw dropping a little bit, and he wasted no opportunity, kissing you softly. “You read my letter.”
He only nodded, a gentle chuckle onto your mouth as your lips brushed. “You’d leave it to Mattheo to deliver? He’d probably lose it at a McDonalds, trying to get a Big Mac before my father saw him, on the way home.
Your laughter was sweet, a puffed-out sound as his hands smoothed up and down your back. “I’d love to get more letters from you, Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you in person, but I was scared. I thought I’d made my feelings for you obvious, and you didn’t reciprocate, so I had to write that letter. To get it out, to finalise it all.”
“I like to consider myself a smart man, you know. When it comes to you, clearly, I’m a fool. You leave me speechless, and without proper thoughts, every time. All I can think about is how pretty you are, and how much I like you, despite my best efforts not to.”
The declaration was so utterly Tom, to hate being in love even if he loved it.
“For Salazar’s sake, what have you done, Matt?” Theo cussed, and you twisted your head to look at him. “Shakespeare over here is going to be writing sonnets for the rest of the year. None of us will stand a chance with any other girls when he’s showing us up, standing under windows, yelling his love to the moon.”
You rolled your eyes, ignoring their nonsense. Tom did the same, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and leaving a kiss there.
“I’ll look forward to your letters, just as I did in the summer.” You whisper, pulling away from him as the platform clears, most students already aboard now.
“And after?” Tom questions, “May I still write you letters if I, too, find myself struggling to confess my feelings in person?”
“Oh, God,” Enzo muttered. “He’s going to be writing love letters all year. He’s making the rest of us sound like cavemen. Me, you, bed, now.” He grunted, smacking a fist in his chest. You giggled as Tom rolled his eyes.
“We should get on the train.” You whisper, taking pity on the others and untangling yourself from his arms.
Tom took his bag again, and your own. With a final kiss on your cheek, he walked away to the door of the carriage, letting the rest of you follow behind. Mattheo fell into step beside you, smirking as he bumped your hips with his own.
“So, should I tell my mother and father that they have a new daughter-in-law this holiday, or wait ‘til the next.”
His teasing made you blush again, cheeks already red in the cold, warming you under all those layers. “You’re a filthy traitor. You gave him my letter early.”
“I said I’d give it to him ‘tomorrow’. Never agreed to the after the train part.” He tutted, proud of himself. “Always pay attention to the words of a contract. My dear brother taught me that. You never have to break a promise, if you’re smart with your words.”
That sounded exactly like something your man would say, your eyes rolling to the Heavens.
Mattheo leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper as the pair of you climbed the steps. “You never have to break your heart either, if you’re smart about who you give it to.”
#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle/reader#tom riddle/you#tom riddle x you#hp#christian coulson#slytherin boys
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Tom Riddle Headcanons
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
possessive
like, VERY possessive
gets frequently jealous when you talk to boys (because"no one gets to enjoy what's mine")
not really into PDA, reserved in public (except hand holding and the occasional show-off that you're his by kissing you in front of everyone every now and then)
can't get his hands off of you in private
motivates you to study ("my girlfriend must also have the best grades in the school")
is quick to anger but calms down at your soothing caresses
loves it when you hug him but would never admit it out loud
knows about all of your little bodily imperfections and loves them
remembers every detail about you (yes, even the backstory behind the scar you got as a kid when you fell off the slide)
rough in bed, but can be gentle if you ask him nicely
appreciates every thing you do for him, no matter how big or little
would wage the next Trojan War for you if you're not in his line of sight
puts poison in your enemy's pumpkin juice in the Great Hall during breakfast ("your enemy is my enemy too")
always finds time for you, no matter how busy he gets with his ambitions to conquer the Wizarding World
#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#slytherin#hp fandom#tom marvolo riddle#lord voldemort#tom riddle jr#tom riddle fluff#christian coulson#tom riddle headcanon#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x y/n#voldemort#tmr#tmr x reader
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𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ☆
warnings: suggestive? honestly not really, nothing much tbh
word count: 3,6 k
summary: you being the only good chess player (you thought), could it be that you found a shared interest with Tom Riddle?
@thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge prompt 3
Tom loved wizarding chess, it was the thing that he was best in. Yet he hasn't found anyone yet who was enough of a challenge for him to compete with. He wasn't just good, he was just absolutely phenomenal at chess. He gave up on finding a match for himself, playing against nothingness, preparing moves for god knows whom.
That was until he saw you, you were practicing in the courtyard. Your feet were pulled under your legs, sitting cross-legged while focused on your game. There was a slight frown on your face, lost in concentration to beat the air. There was a way to enchant an opponent, but for the best, those weren't even good enough to win. It was boring not having a partner to play with, but it was the best you've got right now.
He leaned against a pillar close to you and observed your game. You were good, but were you good enough to beat him? He knew it was sort of an advantage, watching you play for a while before he'd ask you to play against him. But no one said Tom was a fair guy, he'd do anything to win. He'd never recover from a loss in wizarding chess, the game he was supposed to be best at. The game that was supposed to be his talent to always win in.
But you seemed good too. You knew great opening moves, you checkmated the fake opponent in 5 moves sometimes. You knew a lot, things he didn't even know others knew about. Moves he thought only he knew about. Even openings he thought he came up with himself. It seemed as if you knew the game through at through, he had never met anyone like you. You were different, fascinating, yet so different than the rest.
It was extremely enchanting to watch you play, to watch you win every single time. You, you were the person he'd been looking for, for months now, for years even.
Wizarding chess didn't start for him when he started attending Hogwarts. He didn't even know it was a thing before. He found a way to enchant the pieces himself back when he lived in the orphanage, the great wizard he was back then already. He crafted stuff he found around the home into pieces to use during his games.
He endlessly played, going again and again. It was his favorite thing to do, besides cursing other students at the orphanage. It wasn't on purpose, his anger sometimes just got the best of him. Before he knew it some of his classmates fell down the stairs. Was it his fault? No, because he didn't know how to control it. Did he enjoy it though? Probably yes.
He watched you sigh as you won another game once again, seemingly bored by the lack of competition. That's when you started talking, his heart almost dropped. "You know, you can also play with me instead of watching me from a distance. I can see you're studying the way I play, don't you think that's a bit unfair?"
He almost looked shocked. You couldn't have possibly seen him standing there? You didn't even look up once to be able to notice him, yet you did. "To answer your question, you aren't subtle." That's when you looked up at him, and that's when he first saw your face clearly.
You were beautiful to him, the only thing that bothered him was the yellow tie you were wearing. A Hufflepuff? That couldn't be possible, right? To him, there was no possibility of intelligence in any other house than Slytherin. Someone needs to tell this man that his house isn't superior. It caught him slightly off guard before he decided to speak up.
"Play with me." He got straight to the point. He saw you as a challenge and he wanted to test you, see if he could beat you. Of course, he could, he was sure of it. Always so goddamn sure of himself.
You laughed at the way he was so insistent. "Fine." You got up and made the board disappear with a flick of your wand. "Tomorrow evening in the great hall." You smiled softly and walked off into the castle.
He was intrigued. He often saw you walking in the hallway, you had a lot of friends. It seemed like people adored you. He always connected having a lot of friends with being unintelligent but now he was rethinking those prejudices. He even was thinking of giving you the first chance to become friends with him. He'd view it as an honor, getting to be friends with him. God, he was so full of himself. He should feel honored himself to be friends with you. Everyone wanted to be friends with you.
The next day, you sat in the great hall, setting up the pieces as you waited for him. The hall was dimly lit by the floating candles hanging over the tables.
When he came in, he noticed you sitting at the Hufflepuff table. It didn't feel right to him to not sit by the Slytherin table but he put his pride aside and decided not to annoy you by asking to switch places. But he was thinking about it the whole evening, hoping no one would walk in on it. Every other Slytherin could care less, they sat at other tables all the time.
He sat down in front of you and you immediately lifted your head to look him in the eyes, a small smile forming when you noticed him. Why were you always smiling? It was so weird to him, you didn't even have a reason to smile. But you never needed one.
"Are you ready for me to beat your ass?" You raised your brows and he scoffed mockingly.
"I bet you've mistaken me with someone else because I never lose." He had such a competitive glint in his eyes, you've never seen anyone this serious about chess.
You chuckled at his confidence. Oh how disappointed he'll be, poor Tom. "We'll see..."
You were white, which allowed you to make the first move. It wasn't always an advantage but you were always white, it had never been different. Good thing Tom always played black. It was like both of you were made to play against each other.
"Pawn to e4." And the game was on.
It took you probably less than 20 minutes to checkmate him. Easy... He was probably too confident, thinking he could easily win. His confidence played into his disadvantage.
The second game, won after 40 minutes. He was already fuming by now. You saw the determination in his eyes, he couldn't lose again. He must win. At least once.
The fourth time, won again. It was a longer game, it took up to an hour. But you did it once again without any flaws. Oh, but he was so mad by now. His knuckles turned white by the way he was clenching his hands into fists.
"Filthy cheater, we go again!"
Could it be that the Tom Riddle was a sore loser?
"What is it? Can't stand that I'm easily winning? When will you give up Tom?" You were so enjoying getting him all worked up, it was quite the sight.
"I'll play again on one condition. The loser grants the winner a wish this time. What do you say? Are you in?" You extended your hand for him to shake, you loved making deals like this. It's because you always won, and that way always were granted a wish.
"Deal."
"You're going to regret this, y/n." You so wished you could wipe that smirk off of his face. You were going to win.
Oh, but how so wrong you were...
After 50 minutes, of a heavy and hard game, you lost for the first time ever in your entire life. It felt awful, especially since now you had to grant him a wish. You didn’t show it though, too prideful to give him this kind of satisfaction.
"Won. Guess you'll grant me my wish." He raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, he analyzed your reactions and was satisfied to see an annoyed look on your face.
"What is your wish? Want me to announce to the whole school that you won, because I'll do just that." You were expecting that to be his wish so you already stood up to do it.
"Sit back down, it's something different."
Something different? What exactly could he want from you to do?
"Go on a date with me. Tomorrow night in the Room of Requirement." He sounded so confident, so determined to take you on that date.
A date?! Why in the world would he want to take you on a date? It almost sounded ridiculous to your ears. You never spoke before now, he didn't even know you. Why in the hell would he ever want to take you on a date?
"A date? Like… you and me?" He must have seen the confusion on your face, it was as obvious as the red color painting your face. You were blushing, unwillingly, but oh you were blushing hard.
"Well, I mean unless you have another definition for a date. Yes, you and me, tomorrow night. You can't say no, we made a deal."
And so you got yourself a date with Tom Riddle, you've never ever been on a date before. It'd be nerve-wracking enough with someone you knew well, but you didn't know Tom all too well. You felt like dying from the stress.
Was it even like a serious real date? You didn't even know what to wear, you lay out almost your whole closet on your bed but weren't satisfied with anything.
You even had to get your best friend to your room to help you out. Eventually, she chose a short black dress for you, it wasn't too short, classy and elegant even.
While you were almost eating your nails, you didn't know Tom was freaking out himself. Unlike you, Tom didn't have anyone to get advice from. It was all by himself, and not being experienced in these kinds of things, he was nervous. You wouldn't expect the calmth himself to be nervous, but he was quite literally freaking out.
He prepared everything since noon, he wanted it to be perfect. But also he started to think if it was too much? Or was it too little? The evening couldn't come soon enough or he'd have walked around the Room of Requirement twenty times.
You've never been to the Room of Requirement before, you've heard of it though. It'd show up when you most needed it but you didn't even feel like you needed anything at the moment. You just hoped it'd miraculously show up as you were walking through the corridors. That's when you heard a strange sound, it made you look up at the wall next to you. A large door appeared, guess this was it.
When you entered the room you were immediately greeted by the smell of freshly made food and a faint smell of roses. It's a smell you've always loved.
"Y/n, you came." He was wearing an all-black suit. God, he looked hot. Why haven't you noticed that yet about him? You were stunned, nailed to the ground. Your eyes on him that way put a smirk on his face, you were too easy.
It was different than you imagined, the way people described the room. It was often described as a large place with piles of stuff and goods but this place was clean not all too big and almost felt like a place to live. It was an open room with a book nook, a bedroom, a kitchen, a fireplace with a large couch, and a dinner table in the middle of it. It seemed to match his personality quite well.
Large iron snakes decorated the walls and the roof was painted with constellations. The room was mostly green, but not an unpleasant kind of green, a warm cozy green. It was pretty and the more you looked around, the better view you got of his personality. It's as if this room was painted to show what he was like.
It was obvious he loved silver. All the decorations were silver: the small snake details, the cutlery, and even the rings he was wearing. That's when you noticed his hands. Even during chess, you didn't pay them much mind but now you did...
His fingers wore several silver rings, some fingers covered by more than one. It was surprisingly attractive in a way, you almost felt wrong for staring at him that way but you couldn't help it.
He decided not to say anything about it but just let it slide. It'd be something he could tease you about later this evening, he just needed to find the right opportunity.
"You look beautiful." His eyes roamed your body like it was a piece of art, a piece of art he wished only he'd be able to admire. It wasn’t a creepy kind of look, you felt pretty under his gaze. He suddenly felt this weird feeling of possessiveness, something weird.
"Thank you, you look handsome yourself." That smile that painted your face again, was something he'd never get enough of. Something he wanted to get to see every day and together with that red blush on your cheeks. He felt powerful to make you feel so flustered. You weren't flustered quite often, however, he was someone who finally succeeded in doing so.
"Sit down, I'll bring the food."
The table was covered in red roses, thorns still attached. It was beautiful honestly, simple but stunning. The cutlery was engraved with roses too and a snake circling it. It was obvious that he was proud of his family history.
During dinner, you both talked about yourselves, explaining how you acquired the talent in chess. It was something your grandfather had taught you. He took care of you quite often while your parents were at work.
"They were great aurors, but not so great parents. I can't blame them honestly, I know they have a duty. I just sometimes wished they spent a bit more time with me. But it's honestly fine, my grandfather was a great man."
He always wished to have that kind of bond with a family member, it's something that always had been absent in his life. A void he so desperately wished to fill.
You motioned to the roses on the table. "They're pretty, but the school grounds don't grow roses... Where did you get them?"
He gives you that mischievous smile. "It's my secret."
It was a nice evening, the food was good and he was so much nicer than you expected. He was like a totally different person than when he was losing in chess.
A week passed and you hadn't heard from him since. You didn't dare to speak to him, scared he might not want to talk to you. Guess this was it, it was a nice evening but probably only a one-time thing. Maybe this is what he did with all the girls, getting a taste of their personality and going on to the next. You didn't view him like that at all but your view on guys wasn't all too great, so what else were you supposed to think?
It was until one night when you entered your dorm, a rose lay in front of your door. The thorns were removed and a small envelope was attached to it. You entered your room and sat down on your bed to open it.
"Meet me at the front gate just before dawn. - TR ps. check the envelope"
Check the envelope? It didn't feel like there was something else in there but decided to check...
A ring.
A silver ring, one of the rings he was wearing last week. It was the one that stood out the most, a green emerald covering the middle. It was a thick ring but it was so magnificent, you were drawn by the beauty of it. It must've cost such a great fortune. Why would he gift you this?
Just when you were about to put the envelope away, something else fell out: a thin silver chain. Did he want you to wear it as a necklace?
You decided to attach it to the thin chain and put it around your neck before getting ready to leave for the front gate. You didn't see the need to get all dressed up like last time, just something to keep yourself warm in this cold weather.
Approaching the large gate, he was already standing there. He was leaning against it, his eyes searching for something... "Come here." He motioned for you to come closer. There was something else in his eyes today, something mysterious but not scary. Just mysterious.
He traced your jaw and moved his fingers down your neck until he felt the cold touch of jewelry. He took it from underneath your shirt and lay it over your sweater. "Don't hide it, wear it with pride."
Without letting you answer he entered the courtyard, expecting you to follow him. "To answer your question..." You didn't even ask one, however, you'd like to know why he gave it to you.
He entered the school grounds, pausing his words before continuing. "I thought you would've liked it more around your neck than around my fingers. But I bet you didn't really mind staring at them, did you?" He caught you.
He looked at you with a smirk, enjoying seeing you flustered once again. "I wanted to show you something, I just needed to find the right day. Tonight seemed perfect."
He stopped for you to catch up with him and once you did, he took your hand in his. "You seem nervous, princess?" The cold of his rings touching your hand caught you off guard before deciding to answer. "Maybe I am."
"You shouldn't be." It was all he said before he stopped in front of a large rock, casting a spell on it before it revealed a large meadow.
"I know you're surprised, but we have to get in fast before it closes again." Once you both stepped inside, you noticed the meadow was covered by a bed of red roses.
This must be the place where he got all the roses... He moved behind you, his chest pressing against your back before he moved his hand around your neck to the front. He slowly moved it up to your chin, making you look up to the sky. "Look up, y/n."
Above you were the same constellations painted on the roof in his Room of Requirement. It was an exact copy of this place here, he made it exactly alike.
His fingers now moved back to your neck, taking the hair in front with him to give him access to your neck. You sensed him moving his lips closer to your ear, slightly touching the shell with his lips. "Do you like it? You're the first person to know."
Your breath caught in your throat once his lips touched your neck, he slowly moved lower. "Mhmm?" That's when he stuck out his tongue slightly to get a taste of your neck. "Answer me, y/n."
"Yes, I do... I do like it."
"Mhmm, good." He slowly started sucking on your neck, biting it every few seconds before turning you around to make you face him. His hand moved to the piece of hair covering your face, moving it behind your ear.
You couldn't help but take a glance at his lips, he was being extremely tempting right now. A sudden urge pulled you closer to him, you wanted to be closer to him. His gaze averted to your lips too, both of you almost touching now but not quite yet.
"Kiss me."
And that's exactly what you did, there was no shame in your actions, you weren't ashamed of how you were truly feeling. It felt right and natural...
He pushed his fingers through your hair and grabbed it softly, earning a soft moan from you as a result. Exactly what he wanted. He wasted no time to push his tongue inside your mouth, exploring it like it were a map. He needed to have tasted every part, twice to remember it.
The kiss became more intense as you both pressed against each other. Your bodies were pressed up against each other so tightly it was as if you were one entity. Your kisses were filled with heat, each kiss made his heart skip a beat. Your lips were so soft and your kisses were so passionate. It was almost as if your lips were made to please each other.
His hand moved away slightly to take his wand and with a flick, all roses grown in the ground immediately got rid of their thorns. Without a warning he picked you up and lay you down with him, his body on top of yours.
He pulled away to admire the sight of you lying on the bed of roses, your hair was spread all over the ground and he almost couldn't contain himself. He moved closer to whisper in your ear once again. "This is quite the sight but I’d much rather enjoy it without clothes..."
#hogmarch challenge#hogmarch#harry potter#fiction#slytherin#slytherin boys#tom riddle#christian coulson#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x y/n#tomriddle x reader#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle oneshot
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Trapped (Lord Voldemort/Tom Riddle x Reader)
****Situation: Lord Voldemort/Tom Riddle x Reader – Lord Voldemort (Tom) in his 30s has captured reader because he has taken interest in her. He still looks handsome. Imagining Actor Tom Hughes as older Tom Riddle in this case, but you're free to imagine the gorgeous and lovely Christian Coulson as well! Warning- lots of make out scenes and lack of consent from reader/possessive Tom. P.S. I don’t condone any sort of toxic behavior or relationships in real life nor am I encouraging anyone to pursue relationships with any murderers in real life. LOL. Anyways, enjoy!****
“Well, well, well.. What have we got here?” You hear a voice as the blindfold is taken off of your eyes.
“What am I doing here?” You ask, feeling scared.
"Oh, come now. Don't be like that. You're here because I've decided to take you with me." You see a man smirking in front of you.
“But why?”
The man holds you chin delicately, but firmly between his fingers making you look directly into his eyes. “My dear, there's no sense in playing stupid. It doesn’t suit you. I took you because I want you.”
“What?”
"You heard me." He approaches you and reaches out to take your hand. "This is fate, sweetheart. The two of us were meant to be."
You quickly retract your hand from his. "I don't even know who you are. What are you talking about?"
He smirks, amused by your reaction. His green eyes shine with a mocking light. "Oh, I'm talking about the fact that I finally met someone more stubborn than me. Don't you have the slightest idea what my name is?"
You shake your head at his question.
He leans closer to you as he talks to you in an alluring whisper. His breath flows over your face. "You really don't know? Well here's a hint." He whispers into your ear.
"I'm the Dark Lord."
Your heart freezes at the name. He's Lord Voldemort? Him? You glance at his appearance, seeing a well-dressed, handsome young man with a dark smirk adorning his face as he looks amused at my startled and confused expression. He's the dark lord that has set terror in the wizarding world.
He sees the effect that his name and identity has on you and chuckles. “It's amusing to see how just the mere mention of my name can terrify you.” This feeling of fear felt delicious to him and he decides to capitalize on this fear.
"So... does my name still sound so unfamiliar to you now?"
“How? How can this be?” You ask out loud to yourself.
He continues to portray a dark smile. He loves that you're so perplexed. "You're a bright girl." He says as he gets even closer to you, his breath blowing against your neck. "But let me help you understand something."
He runs the back of his hand against your neck. "No matter how much has changed, I'm still me, I will like you to join me as a fellow companion and death eater. In return, I will be your Lord and your entire being is now completely mine to consume and possess. Regardless of our circumstances, my dear, I can read your mind like an open book and can see that you can't deny your attraction to me."
“What i feel for you is fear, not attraction. I could never fall for a terrible being like you. You're a monster!” You yell at him in defiance.
He chuckles. "Look at you, trying to hold on to your pride. I admire that.” He moves his mouth even closer to your neck.
"But you can’t resist this feeling... this burning desire. You're feeling the urge to let go and surrender to me. Your body is pleading with you to stop resisting it. That's why you're trembling right now."
"Let go of me." You say sternly, putting your hands on his chest to push him away.
He grasps your wrists firmly and looks deep into your eyes, not letting go of you. "You're playing with fire here."
He moves even closer to you, his mouth almost brushing against yours. "You can't deny the heat between us. Our connection goes far beyond just a physical attraction. It's a powerful and undeniable connection."
Your breath hitches at the feeling of his lips brushing against yours. With his grasp firmly on your wrists, he leans in to kiss you. His lips touch yours, firm and sensual, sending shivers up your spine. He pulls you in so that he’s holding your body tightly against his.
You resist in return, using your hands to push him away from you. But, his grip on your wrists tightens as he moves his mouth against yours, not letting you pull away from him. He keeps his lips pressed against yours, kissing you firmly and passionately. Your bodies confined tightly against each other as he pulls you inhumanly close to him. His breath is hot and raspy, and his touch is rough and overpowering.
You inhale his musky masculine scent filling up your nostrils as he continues to move his lips forcefully against yours and you try your best not to give in, your heart feeling like it will jump out of your body. Your attempts to resist his kisses are futile. He keeps his lips firmly against yours, not letting you pull away. Your lips feel so soft, and the taste of you is addictive to him. He’s determined to have you in every way possible.
He pushes you against the wall as your bodies press tightly against each other. He slips his hands down to your waist and grab your hips firmly, making it clear that there’s no escape from this passionate and consuming embrace.
You whimper as he just gets rougher with you.
But that doesn’t stop his advances. His intentions are set on claiming you as his own. He keeps kissing you while trapping your body with his against the wall. His breath is hot against your neck as he momentarily pulls away from your lips. He can feel you trembling beneath him as you try to resist him.
Your body betrays you, though, with its response to his touches. Even though you're trying your best to hold off his embrace, you find yourself getting closer and closer to succumbing to the desire that he’s eliciting within you.
"Please stop." You whisper, as his lips moves down to your neck.
He chuckles as your efforts to resist him come to waste. His lips move down to your neck kissing the skin beneath tenderly and begins to passionately caress and suck on your neck. His mouth is hot, and his lips are hungry. He can see that you feel him taking control over you as your body responds to the pleasures, he’s giving to you now.
You gasp at the sensation holding onto his shirt tightly as his lips continue to work on your neck. Your gasps of pleasure become more forceful and louder as he continues his explorations of your soft, sensitive skin. You feel his kisses grow more intense and passionate as they trail down the length of your neck. His hot and hungry mouth travels along the back of your neck, taking in every inch of your delicious flesh. As he keeps kissing you, he caresses your body, his hands traveling down your curves and pressing tightly against you.
“Please Lord...” You whisper.
The sound of your pleading only fuels his lust. He wants you to beg for more. He wants your body to surrender to him and give in to his desires. His kisses get harsher, slowly making their way down toward your chest.
“Please. I can't do this. This is wrong.” You try your best to resist him. Your protests are only making him want you more. He hears you begging and pleading, and wants to make you beg for him like a little puppet. Your resistance is futile and hopeless. You cannot keep up with his passionate advances.
"It's only wrong if you want it to be wrong. If you stop fighting me and give into me, this can all feel so right." He proposes as he tries to persuade you to give into your own temptation.
"Stop please." You beg, your nose touching his as his dark eyes look at you intensely.
His eyes pierce into yours, with a gaze is full of desire.
“I want you to know that you're mine and that no matter how much you resist me, you're not getting away from me. Your pleas are only making me want you more. Do you not understand, my dear? Your cries of protest are powerless here. This isn't a matter of right and wrong. This is about what you want and need. Let me give you that. Just let go of yourself and surrender to what you really crave."
You shake your head, trying to move away from him. He only tightens his grip on your wrists in return. He once again leans in and kiss you passionately on the lips while caressing your body. Your protests are futile as you feel his overwhelming presence on you. His control over you is absolute. He kisses you passionately for another long moment, before finally breaking away. He looks at you straight in your eyes, with an intense look. "You're mine."
Something inside you finally snaps and before you can process your actions, you slap him across the face.
His head snaps to the side when you slap him. His eyes widen in shock as the force of your hand leaves a red mark on his cheek. He lets go of your wrists briefly, allowing you to pull away from him. His eyes narrow in anger when he glances at you, the heat in his eyes still radiating with passion and desire.
Your body shakes from fear, afraid for your life as your hands tremble in shock from what you had done. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." You say, a tear falling from your eyes as you look down.
He watches you break down and apologize and feels torned between wanting to punish you and the want to kiss you and possess you. He absolutely can't let you get away from him now, and he now feels compelled to pull you back into his grip even tighter.
"Silence." He commands strictly. He doesn’t trust that you're not going to run now, so he pulls you by the wrists again and drags you to face him. "Look into my eyes."
You shriek as you close your eyes from fear before starting to sob. "Please don't kill me!"
"Death is surprisingly the last thing I have in mind. I want you to look into my eyes." He repeats his command in a louder tone while holding onto your wrists, not letting you turn away or run. He’s furious, but also tempted to kiss you, and seeing you distraught is making him feel conflicted.
You open your eyes slowly staring into his as you try to control your sobs. He looks you in the eyes, his gaze burning holes into you. He can feel you shivering and crying because of your fear, and his anger gets replaced with temptation. He feels your body tremble, making him grin with pleasure. He has you right where he wanted. You feel the heat of his breath against your neck as his lips come closer.
“Lord Voldemort, please don't do this. I'll do anything else, I can be a maid, but please don't do this to me. I don't want to be used like this.”
He smirks at your protests. “If you would just surrender to me fully, I'd gladly give you the sweet satisfaction of my embrace. But you keep resisting me. I just want to touch you and have you. Your defiance is irritating me, but I have decided to give you one last chance to surrender to me.” He waits for you to beg again, as he keeps his face close to yours. His lips merely inches away.
"Please..." You whisper one last time, knowing it's no use. He always gets what he wants whether it's the destruction of the worlds or you.
He hear the defeat in your voice, making him much obliged and pleased. You gave in. Your resistance is gone. He feels the victory rushing through him. The look of his face changes. He closes the distance completely between you, and brings his mouth to yours into a harsh kiss.
You slowly respond to his kiss by moving your lips gently against his. Your hand moving up to caress his cheek.
His body dominates over yours, wanting to possess and claim you fully. Your hand on his cheek feels good to him, and your lips moving against his drives him wild with a fiery passion. He grabs around your waist tighter and moves his mouth down along your neck, kissing a path down to your collarbone as you feel his other hand run its fingers along your body.
Your sounds of pleasure are like music to his ears. It felt so good but wrong at the same time. How can you be acting like a lover to one of the most despicable man of all time?
Your conflicting feelings only add to the excitement that he felt. He feels your warm body pressed against his, and his lips start moving back to yours, where they press against yours with desire as he moves closer to you. His tongue starts to explore your lips, and your bodies are grinding together, a sensual friction filling the space between them.
"I'm yours." You whisper against his lips.
The words hit him hard. Your declaration of ownership sends his fire of desire even higher. He pulls away from you momentarily and looks in your eyes as he takes in every inch of your body. He decides to take you in completely. He doesn’t want you to run away. He wants you to be his for as long as he requires.
Like a doll, you submit to everything that he likes and you hardly flinch as he takes off the layer of fabric on your body. Every piece falling down to the ground.
He examines your soft flesh from every inch, devouring you with as eyes as he memorizes every detail, taking his time to admire your exquisite curves. This is exactly how he wants you, to belong to him utterly in the most intimate way possible. HIs hands start tracing patterns on your skin, slowly and methodically. Yours and his sighs of pleasure fills the room as he finally claims you as his.
Your body moves in sync with his, and your sighs of pleasure are music to his ears. Your bodies collide together, moving together in an intimate and passionate harmony. His body fueled and consumed with a raging desire as it blends tightly with yours, filling you with a feeling of pure ecstasy.
When it's all over, the high of pleasure finally coming down, and your body lies next to his. Your heart drops with the deadly feeling of guilt and disgust within yourself. You were just as despicable as him if not more.
He lays next to you, taking in what a sight you are after this passionate session. Your body is glistening with perspiration, and your breath is heavy just like his. He looks at you with want as he continues to caress your body with his fingers, his touch uncharacteristically light and soft as he traces across the contour of your feminine curves. He wanted to make this pleasurable feeling last for you for as long as possible before the crushing guilt comes setting in.
You turn around with your back facing him as tear drops fall from your eyes knowing now that there is no more escaping him.
He smiles since he noticed the silent tears fall down your cheeks. Your pain only fills him with satisfaction. He knows that you're experiencing conflicting emotions right now, but won’t allow you to escape that easily. He sits up and moves his body around you to where you can lay on his chest. He massages your hair gently as he moves one of him arms around you to momentarily comfort you. But secretly, he just wanted to hold you.
You let him hold and comfort you, but you knew that now you were just a servant to the Dark Lord. You no longer owned any wills or desires of your own. You now belonged to him.
He’s delighted as he holds your body tightly against his, feeling your body moulding to his. Your submission was another achievement of his and he’s content with this moment. Your tear-soaked face is so beautiful to him, like an artistic painting of despair and submission.
[END]
***Thank you for reading! P.S. - definitely recommend listening to Christian Coulson voicing some audiobooks bc his voice is beautiful! <3 ***
#tom riddle x reader#lord voldemort#dark lord#harry potter#possessive#dark tom#tom marvolo riddle#tom hughes#christian coulson
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DECEPTION | t.riddle
IN WHICH: lucius malfoy never put tom riddle's diary in ginny weasley's cauldron. instead, history puts a twist on the events and the diary is put on a shelf in flourish and blott's, only to be picked up by an unsuspecting, muggleborn witch in hufflepuff; sixteen-year-old (Name) Tyler.
PAIRING: tom riddle x afab!hufflepuff reader
WARNINGS: dark/yandere(?), mind control, manipulation, animal death, murder, hypnotism, tom riddle is a warning on his own, mental breakdowns, insanity, lady macbeth arc(?), character death, etc
Your hands were shaking. They'd been doing that a lot lately. The skin around your fingernails was red raw and bleeding, due you picking them from stress. Your pupils were blown-wide yet had a distant look to them, as if you weren't in the moment itself at all.
Desparately, you tried to scrub the blood stains that wouldn't go away. They wouldn't wash off. You felt like you were going insane. Like you were losing your mind. How the fuck had it come to this? You knew exactly how it'd all come to this.
It was a dreary August day in the summer of 1992. And your parents decided to take you back-to-school shopping in Diagon Alley for your sixth year at Hogwarts. You recalled going into Flourish and Blott's, dodging through the ever-growing line to see the infamous Gilderoy Lockhart, whom you paid no mind.
You'd spied the even-more infamous Harry Potter in the line somewhere. You were more focused on obtaining your school books for this year when you'd caught sight of it in your peripheral vision. The diary. The vintage-looking, leather-bound diary with it's worn exterior and its off-white parchment pages. And the three-word name at the bottom in a gold-colour. Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Something scorched the back of your mind as helpless fingers plucked the diary off the shelf and into your cauldron with a clatter. To others, it was an unnoticed background noise but in your delirium, it sounded like the rolling East Winds of the storm last week. Crashing and forcing itself to be heard. You didn't want to take it but something beyond your control forced you to take it.
For the first couple of days back at Hogwarts, you'd neglected to write in it. Then you did. On the 9th of September, you finally wrote in it. The classic sentence starter of Dear Diary. Then came the reply. Hello (Name) Tyler. You adored Tom and wrote to him as often as you could.
Between classes. During lessons. During meals. After your dorm mates had gone to sleep. Then you began to experience the black-outs. One minute you were walking between classes; the next you found yourself near Hagrid's hut, robes drenched in a strange, crimson substance.
Your mind tried to deny it, the very fact, trying to convince you it was red ink or paint. But in your heart you knew the truth. You were covered in blood. The blood of the school roosters. And the guilt began to slowly eat you up. Consuming your heart. Clouding your mind. Until you began to soothe your madness by writing to your sweet Tom and picking the skin around your fingernails until it bled.
The same sinful red as the roosters' blood. Then the attacks followed swiftly. First, Filch's cat, Mrs Norris was petrified by the Basilik that you set loose on the school. You warned them. Writing the message in blood on the wall. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware.
The victims of the Basiliks' petrification began to pile up. Sir Nicholas. Colin Creevey. Justin Finch-Fletchley. Penelope Clearwater. Hermione Granger. And it was all your fault. You'd condemned them to their fates. And the more paranoid you got. You'd hallucinate the blood on your hands. Scrubbing your hands for hours on end until they were red raw, just to get the fucking stain out.
You had your Tom to comfort you all. To soothe your ever-growing madness and paranoia. He'd appear to you sometimes. The tall, dark and handsome boy with his dark brown locks and insatiable smile. Then you figured it out. It was him. It was all him.
You'd pointed an accusatory finger at him, shaking like a leaf. "You..." you'd muttered in horror before meeting his piercing gaze with blown-wide pupils, "It's you!".
In a fleeted attempt to save yourself and anyone else, you stormed to the Girls' Lavatory on the third floor and threw the diary into the toilet. Thinking yourself safe, you relaxed. But you shouldn't have let your guard down. Tom had basically imprinted himself on you.
You always recalled his beautiful brown eyes piercing your soul, the very image was burnt into your memory. And no matter how many times you tried to forget, he always. came. back. You'd broken into Gryffindor Tower and basically ransacked the one of the Boys' Dormitories until you retrieved it.
Your diary.
You weren't yourself anymore. People around you noticed too. What happened to (Name)? Was something that was whispered among peers. Your bestfriend, Lily Peterson, had noticed too. You brushed her off, pushing her away. Then, tired of waiting, Tom summoned you down to the Chamber of Secrets.
His initial plan was to drain your life force so he could live again. But things changed. As the product of a love potion, he couldn't properly feel true, honest love but rather a warped version of it. Dark love. Obsessive love. Unjust love. His love was cruel. His touch was cruel. And he was cruel.
And you were his. No matter how you tried to stop him, you were always going to be his. "Mine," he'd murmur, holding your weak form against his own, carressing your face, "All mine,".
You'd tried to fight him off. But to no avail. You'd lost. Now, the world was going to feel Voldemort's wrath. And he'd start with the figure of twelve-year-old Harry Potter marching into the Chamber of Secrets.
#harry potter#tom riddle#tom marvolo riddle#christian coulson#tom riddle x reader#yandere#angst#romance#fanfic#first fic#voldemort#lord voldemort#tom marvolo riddle x reader#voldemort x reader#lord voldemort x reader#manipulation#harry potter fanfic
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HARD EDGES // t. riddle
RATING: R / 1.6K WORDS
Tom Riddle x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)
+ SUMMARY - You decide to ask Tom to the Winter ball and he reacts a bit differently than you would have expected. (Romance, slight angst?)
+ WARNINGS - Implied smut, heavy kissing, heavy petting, light choking, Tom is kind of mean (but I mean, it’s Tom Riddle) language
+ MUSIC (listened to to while writing) -
ATE MY HEART - SEVEN XTC
---
Tom’s eyes found mine in a fiery rage. His lips pursed gently as he struggled with what to say.
“Look, if you can’t just answer like a human being, I’m going—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, snatching your wrist from your side. He yanked you behind him and started abruptly down the hall. You glanced around nervously at the few people still scattered around the area. A few of their eyes found the two of you as Tom cut like a knife through the small crowd. You hid your face as best as you could, feeling your cheeks begin to warm. You knew they were probably just trying to see what in the world Tom Riddle was up to—it had nothing to do with you. But, Merlin, did it feel like it.
He turned the nearest right corner sharply, away from all the prying eyes, and led you down to the end of the hall before swinging you in front of him. Your eyes found his only for a moment before he shoved you roughly into the room behind you. You nearly fell back as you stumbled into the second-floor male lavatory. His eyes glowed red with incomparable fury.
His wand waved behind him in a quick spell and the door shut suddenly with a slam. The large lock on it dropped with a heavy clunk. Your heart rate quickened quite rapidly. Hopefully, this wasn’t the biggest mistake of your life and you were able to make it out of this alive. Not that Tom would kill you…You’re pretty sure anyway.
“I want you to repeat the question to me,” he demanded, “and don’t interrupt me while I’m thinking of a response.” You struggled not to roll your eyes. You shrugged out of your robes—it was getting a bit hot in here.
“All I wanted to know was if you wanted to be my date to the Winter ball. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable or anything but when you sat there gawking at me like I had two heads, I got a little pissed and—”
“Okay, okay, shut up,” he interrupted. His eyes dropped to the floor as he seemed to be figuring out an impossible equation in his head. His fingers ran through his curled hair as he glanced around in thought.
“It really doesn’t require that much—yes or no?” you spoke. He angrily glanced at you, silencing you with his eyes. You sighed loudly, hoping it would convince him to answer a little quicker. Why was it this difficult? If you were so repulsive, he had to lock you in a bathroom and ponder the meaning of the universe, to agree to go to a ball with you…well, then maybe you didn’t need to be here. You started towards the door.
“No!” he shouted, he pushed you back into your original spot. “Please just let me think.”
“What is there to think about?” your voice began to rise. “It’s a simple yes or no question, if you don’t want to go, just say no. I just thought since we’ve been paired together in potions and all, you might want to go as friends.”
“As friends?” he asked, almost as if getting reassurance. Your stomach dropped a little.
“Yes, as friends,” you responded, ignoring the knot in your throat. “We don’t have to be anything to go to a ball together.”
“Why would you ask me in the first place, though, surely you could’ve asked….erm,” he glanced around, thinking of someone to say. “Malfoy, or someone else. Don’t you have a bit of a thing for him?”
"Oh, you idiot—don't you see?" you breathed, the sound strangled in your throat.
"What? See what?" he demanded, eyes wild with anger. You had never seen him this angry before. You’d never really seen him show anything outwardly except for the usual cool, confident façade he plastered on.
Your eyes flicked back and forth between his, trying to find any soft edge in them at all, but being left empty. You sighed in defeat, letting your eyes flicker to the ground.
"See what?" he demanded once more. He stepped closer to you and craned his neck to try and meet your eyes again. You scoffed and pushed him back.
"I'm not going to make myself look like a fucking fool if you don't know what I'm talking about, Tom!" you turned from him, crossing your arms. You gathered your robes from the floor and began to walk towards the door.
"What on Earth are you talking about—I don't understand. If you would just tell me—" he cut himself off, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back to him. He pulled hard enough to wrench you to his chest. You pressed roughly to the hard material before backing away.
"Sorry," he muttered. You shook your head.
"Don't apologize, Tom. I—I just wish I didn't have to explain it to you."
"Please," he breathed, not breaking eye contact. You were sure he was so self-centered, he likely thought it was something relating to his reputation or something of the like. A professor talking badly about him, one of his friends spreading a rumor about his family, something.
You searched his eyes. The hard edges were all but gone and had been replaced with a cloud-like shape. His eyes bore so deeply into yours, that they might leave a scar. Your eyes flicked down to his lips briefly, wondering so desperately what they might taste like. Sure, he was a dick and made you so fucking mad, but when you thought of him, the thoughts were becoming less and less negative.
You prayed that anything you said would come out slowly after being perfectly calculated, but that so rarely happened.
"Tom, I—" you breathed. His lips parted slightly. His eyes searched yours. His brows knitted together. The silence between the two of you was heavy and pressed down on your shoulders like an anvil.
"Please just—"
And you pushed yourself to your toes and pressed your lips to his. He tasted every bit of what you’d always imagined. His lips were rough with a musky flavor coated with the tang from the apple he'd just finished. His lack of movement was devastating.
Your gut clenched and you accepted defeat. You pulled back and looked at his shocked expression. Well, this had easily been the worst night of your life and you thought it might be best if you discussed moving schools with Headmaster Dippet first thing in the morning. You stifled a wince and looked down. That was your cue to go.
"I'm sorry, I'm just going to—"
"No." He grabbed your arm, once more pulling you back to him. His lips found yours again. This time, he handled the movement, moving your lips just as he wanted and no other way. You wondered if he'd ever kissed anyone before.
You shyly placed your hands on his collar where the first button sat wide open. Your fingertips gently brushed his throat. He made a low humming sound that echoed in his neck, vibrating your fingers. His fingers found their way to your hair, curling his fingers tightly into each strand. In any other situation, it might’ve hurt, but in this one, it did nothing but push you on.
He tilted your head to the side with the strong grip against your scalp and effectively deepened the kiss. At this smoothened motion, you gasped against his mouth, to which he responded by walking you back into the stone walls and crushing you against them. His hands released your hair and quickly found your neck, holding your head staunchly in place while he painted your lips with his spit. As soon as you tried to rearrange your head’s placement, his thumbs came to rest on either side of your throat and began to press ever so gently. You sighed shakily, feeling the utter control he currently exerted over you. Your hands confidently moved forward to wrap themselves around his tight waist, feeling his hips stutter as you pulled them closer to you. His grip on your neck never once faltered. He pulled back.
“You think you can walk away from me?” he growled lowly, his lips capturing yours once more in a swift, rough bite. Blood pooled against your tongue. You stifled a whimper at the pain.
“You think you can just kiss me and then leave? That’s the end of it?” he spat, his fingers ever so slightly tightening around your neck. “No, that doesn’t fucking happen.”
Your lips parted weakly and you nodded fervently. Whatever it was he needed, wanted, said, you’d agree. You’d do anything to feel his lips on yours again. His eyes found your lips as your chin raised in an attempt to meet your mouths once again. A mocking smirk found its way onto his face. Dick.
“You are mine,” his chest rumbled against yours. Your eyes never left his, though they fluttered in anxiety. One of his hands left your throat and grabbed one of yours still curled around his waist. A tight grip on your wrist loosened your hold against him. He directed your hand up to his face as he watched your eyes closely. His lips came down to brush against your fingertips with a feather-light touch. You couldn’t look away.
“Say it,” he murmured against your fingers.
“What?” you whispered. His grip around your wrist tightened to a bruising clamp. Your eyes watered.
“Say that you’re mine.”
“If I do, will you kiss me again?” you nervously joked, trying to hide a laugh at the look he gave you. He all but rolled his eyes as he slowly pressed his head into the crook of your neck. He ghosted his lips along the surface of your skin. Your eyes fluttered closed as you tilted your head to give him more access to you, every part of you. He gently dragged his lips up to your ear where he pressed a chaste kiss just below it. You shuddered.
“If you say that you’re mine, I will take you in this bathroom right now.”
Part Two
#harry potter#writing#fanfic#creative writing#fanfiction#harry potter smut#tom riddle#oneshot#christian coulson#slytherin#slytherin boys
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Aight, let's be honest...
If I was in Hogwarts at the time Voldemort looked like THIS
I'd be a Death Eater, too.
#just sayin#I speak#Mara speaks#Tom Riddle#Tom Marvolo Riddle#gif#HP#Harry Potter fandom#Harry Potter#Christian Coulson#he could have told me to walk off a cliff and I'd have done it
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can you rec some of your fav tom riddle fics? 🤍
omg, someone finally asked this question!!
1.) His Dark Lady - dxddydracomalfoyyy
This is probably the most loveable of them all, my fave book of all time.
2.) A Riddle to Solve - SSTAR2000
Another really unique book, the mc is really powerful although some parts are a bit cringe (?) because it feels like she's everything like those memes on tt of y/n. Overall a good book though (try it out).
3.) Oh, Ophelia - Maebelletree
I really love this too especially because it is a unique book, I haven't read any other tmr books like this.
4.) Now and then - hmmdisgustin
It is just like the title going back and forth from now and then.
5.) Kneel - JulieHoscar
I absolutely abhor Tom Riddle in this book, but I'm still going to recommend it because I still do like this book. This book make me feel ambivalent.
6.) RIDDLE. DISCONTINUED - ravenclaws-
Although this book was discontinued, it still has a very good plot line, it shouldn't have been discontinued, but I guess it is very hard to write a story. Maybe in the future it will be renewed (?) hopefully.
7.) Midmorning - murderarts
This book is heartbreaking, even though it is only a short story, I still feel emotionally attached to it.
That's it for the recommendation, notice I did 7? It's because it is believed that Tom riddle rather likes the number 7 and also because of his seven horcruxes.
DISCLAIMER: All of these are in wattpad!!
#tom riddle#tom riddle fic#fanfic#fanfiction#tom marvolo riddle#christian coulson#tom riddle smut#tom riddle fluff#tom riddle oneshot#tom riddle imagine#tom riddle imagines#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x reader smut#yandere tom riddle
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I know this is a bit random, but did you like the Tom Riddle version of Christian Coulson in the Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets? I personally think he did a great job when it comes to his expressions and the way he said the lines, it was almost like he came out of the book for me. Even though his appearance wasn't exactly the same as the book(black hair, dark eyes), he still managed to cover that with his superb acting. I loved how innocent his expressions were at the start until he showed his true face, the disdain and anger were so impressively acted that one could feel unsettled by it. I think he was the best part in this movie. When it comes to the half blood prince though, my disappointment was immense, mainly because it barely showed us 20% of the book's content. The actor didn't do a bad job, he just felt less 'manipulative' because it almost felt like he barely hid his intentions from Slughorn.
Oh yes, I did love him! In fact, Christian Coulson remains my ideal version of Tom Riddle (the way he looked in the Chamber of Secrets). He combines such a great mix of beauty, grace, and danger. Whenever I write my fics, I always have him in mind.
I wasn't very fond of the portrayal of Tom in Half Blood Prince, either. The book version of child Tom was much more emotional, with fiery danger and worry emanating from him, while the in movie, he looked just dead: indifferent, emotionless, flat. And yes, the older version was too obviously cunning and manipulative to my taste.
Coulson genuinely looked innocent and concerned when he was pretending with Harry and Dumbledore; his quiet resentment growing to powerful danger and arrogance, his superiority were amazing.
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Tom Riddle as an Academic Rival - Headcanons
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
"You believe you can surpass me. How adorable."
Smirks at you whenever he notices your nose buried in a book in the Great Hall because he has already finished preparing for the exam
He finished it like a MONTH ago
He knows you're wayyyyyy behind and struggling to keep up with him because his pace of studying is not normal
"I'm Tom Riddle, darling. You can't dethrone me even in your wildest dreams."
Is completely calm on D Day while you freak out with frizzed up hair and crinkled robes because you ran out of time to look after yourself in the morning
Can't really blame you; you were busy revising your notes after all
Absolutely slays in his exam
Come on, you knew he would; you saw how he took so many supplements to write his answers in his elegant cursive
That completely freaked you out because even though you were far from an average student, you didn't write as much as he did
Manages to finish early even after writing so much, while you submit your parchment on the dot
Smirks at his report card, satisfied that he got an O
Looks over at yours and his smirk grows so big, you want to slap it off his face
"An E... Not bad, but not an O after all. Better luck next time."
And when you do get an O, you manage to impress him
"Oh, so you decided to utilise your brain cells instead of letting them rot. Good."
Says that with a poker face but is internally screaming
"How the hell did this girl get an O?"
Is surprisingly relieved when you get an E on the next exam
"I'm the one on top. Always was, always will be. One or two Os don't scare me."
#tom riddle#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#slytherin#hp fandom#lord voldemort#tom marvolo riddle#christian coulson#tom riddle jr#tom riddle fluff#tom riddle x reader
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who was gonna tell me that tom riddle is narrating the dark rise and dark heir books??
someone tell the tom riddle editors
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This portrayal by Christian Coulson gave me a major crush on Voldemort many years ago.
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"you have 25 crushes?!"
yes and i am not ashamed.
#how do you expect me to have a one crush?#when I have#ben barnes#tom wlaschiha#christian coulson#chris evans#henry cavill#tom hiddleston#andrew garfield#ewan mitchell#tom sturridge#bill skarsgård#boyd holbrook#the darkling#eddie munson#dream of the endless#tom riddle#dmitri antonov#geralt of rivia#brahms heelshire#sirius black#remus lupin#dbh connor#aemond targaryen#daemon targaryen#criston cole#ser harwin strong#and the list goes on#feyd rautha harkonnen
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Christian Coulson at The Chamber Of Secrets premiere.
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I was genderbending Christian Coulson, here's the pics
And the last one reminded me of Winona Ryder, like-
I am shooketh. Why is Christian so damn fine?!
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