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cardansriddle · 14 days

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Gilded Serendipity - (tom riddle x oc)

Part 3/10: "False God"

Story summary: A summer meant to be spent in the tranquil seaside mansion of Rosier's was not supposed to sway hearts like rustling leaves. Sereia Nova was most definitely not supposed to feel drawn to Tom Riddle. Yet August had a way of weaving chaos and desire together, only to dissolve into the shadows, leaving behind a bittersweet aftermath- an ephemeral illusion of love.

(gif not mine)

PART 1 PART 2

chapter warnings: sensual themes.

A/N: took me a whileee but here is the third part!!

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

The subconscious was always a bitter thing. It liked playing wicked games with its owner, taking the things the person did not want to think about out of that pocket of forbidden thoughts and bringing it to the very front of the mind.

Sereia was cursing her brain as she was hurriedly descending the stairs. Her mind was cruel, replaying the night before like a broken film reel, unrelenting in its vividity. She could still feel the ghost of his touch trailing illicit whispers along her skin. The shape of his lips haunted her own.

She was going insane, and there was nothing she could do to put an end to it. With that one kiss, Tom had sunk his fangs deep into her vein, poisoning her blood with the feel of him so she would not dare forget it. Sereia had spent a good hour in the bath, scrubbing her skin raw until it was red and irritated, yet his touch remained imprinted. No amount of effort could wash away his claim.

"Merlin's beard, Ria, did you sleep at all? You look like...death."

She huffed and shot him a sharp glare. "Not in the mood, Tony.""

"Woah, alright. Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today." He grumbled, putting his hands up as if to surrender. The witch was half-tempted to hit him, but stopped when Walburga entered the room with a sly smirk curling on her lips.

"Who woke up in your bed?" She questioned. Her eyes flicked to Sereia, and they suddenly shone with mirth. "Our Sereia here? It was about time."

Sereia's cheeks flushed at her comment, and she helplessly looked at Antoine to say something. But before he could utter a word, Avery strutted into the room.

"What was about time?" He asked lazily, barely attempting to cover his mouth as he yawned. "Well?"

"Sereia and Antoine here. Apparently they were up to no good last night." The brunette winked cheekily, and shot her an approving smile. "I must say, dear Ria, I did not know you had it in you. Always thought you were a prude."

Sereia was sure her whole face was the same shade as the maroon wine Avery was holding in his hand. The boy stared between them for a moment, before frowning. "Salazar's spit, Antoine. I wanted to woo her this summer." He paused, as if reconsidering, and then strode towards the girl. She barely registered more people filing into the room as he leaned closer to her. "But, I assure you, should you fall into my arms, I will make you see the stars. I am much better company in bed than Antoine."

"Avery, enough." Tony warned from next to her.

Walburga laughed. "Well, Avery, Abraxas, you owe me ten galleons. They fucked before winter."

I buried my face in my palms. "Tony!"

"Everyone, shut it. Sereia and I most definetely did not fuck. So please, shut your mouths."

"But—"

"You misheard, Walburga. She did not sleep in my bed. We are strictly platonic."

The girl seemed to recover from her embarassed state and added. "Exactly. It's more of a he's my brother type of situation and what you all are suggesting is— it's just gross."

She lifted her chin, attempting to rid herself of the embarassment and mortification that the conversation had caused. Straightening her spine, she regarded eeryone around her. They all looked either amused or confused. When her eyes met Riddle's, she had to surpress her shudder at the intensity behind his heated gaze. She could not quite read his expression, but the displeasure was as evident as ever. Flashes of the previous night suddenly invaded her mind, and she had to avert her gaze quickly lest she blushed once more.

Clapping his hands, and snapping the girl from her brief memory lane, Antoine drew the attention to himself. "Great, let us end this conversation now!" He questioned from beside her, and she felt the ghost of his fingers brushing against her elbow in reassurance. Her gaze subconsciously saught Riddle's, and when she saw the dark look he was shooting to where Antoine's hand was touching, the girl stepped aside. Her friend shot her a confused look, but she just shrugged.

"Can we eat now that that's settled?" She rose an expectant brow, gesturing towards the table that had already been set and filled with food. Avery was the first to break the pregnant silence, huffing and puffing about how he was starving. Seria shared a look with Antoine before following Avery's lead and taking a seat. As she placed some fruits onto her plate, the chair beside her was pulled back and she could feel before she could see that it was Riddle. It was bizarre— the way she could simply feel the air still whenever she was in his presence. It was like the very atmosphere was telling— no— warning her that he was near, that she should brace herself to face him.

His clothed arm brushed hers as he shifted, and the girl had to resist the urge to shiver.

"Salazar's spit, Riddle, are you not parched in those clothes?" Antoine suddenly questioned, and suddenly all eyes were on the wizard.

"Some people have the decency not to walk around naked, Rosier. Perhaps you should take notes." Walburga muttered snidely.

"It was the middle of the night! Am I supposed to walk in a whole three-piece suit at the crack of dawn?"

"A shirt and sleeping pants would suffice."

"Can you cut it out? This is making me lose my appetite." Abraxas grumbled abruptly, his voice slicing through the escalating bickering. A smirk of triumph flashed across his face as the table fell into a silence. He grabbed his cutlery and digged into his breakfast aggressively.

Sereia, feeling a lack of appetite, mechanically nibbled on assorted fruits. She tuned out Lestrange and Rosier as they began squabbling again about another matter she did not care to know. She was about to reach for her goblet when a warm breath tickled her cheek, drawing her attention.

"Had I known you'd run to Rosier to finish what I started, perhaps I would not have let you slip away so easily, little siren." Tom whispered lowly, Tom murmured, his lips grazing the curve of her ear with each syllable. The girl try as she might, could not help the shudder that ran through her body.

He noticed. Of course, he did. He never missed a thing. Yet, before he could revel in his discernment, she retorted, her voice a low hiss meant to avoid alarming the others nearby. "How dare you?" she countered, struggling to keep her voice subdued. She truly could not believe the nerve of him to imply such a thing. "I did not run to anyone. Antoine and I certainly did not spend the night together, so I'd appreciate if you refrained from implying that I'm a whore."

"I never said that."

"You implied it."

"I did not."

"Whatever. But if we are talking about whores, why not talk about you?" She turned her head to meet his gaze squarely. "You are the resident whore of Hogwarts, perhaps second place to Avery, or maybe you just hide it better." She watched as surprise flickered across his features for a fleeting moment before he swiftly masked it, as if it had never been there at all. "I will not be a plaything, Riddle. While you may find amusement in Walburga, you will not find me so compliant," she declared, her tone firm, before redirecting her attention to the others at the table. Meanwhile, Tom studied her profile, a barely perceptible smirk tugging at his lips. She was a fiery little thing, and oh how he relished a challenge.

Not used not having the last word, he leaned to whisper in her ear once again. "You may resist all you want, but I will have you succumb to me." he murmured, his gaze searching her face for a reaction. She responded with a smirk, but she did not deign to meet his eyes.

"Maybe I will consider it... if you beg."

He laughed loudly at that, genuinely amused at her bravery. Everyone at the table suddenly diverted their attention towards them, disbelief flashing across their features at seeing Riddle laugh.

"Is he—"

"Salazar's spit..."

"What's so funny?"

Tom hummed softly, a languid smile lingering on his lips as he casually draped an arm over the back of Sereia's chair. She clenched her teeth in frustration at his nearness, struggling to push aside the unwelcome flood of thoughts crowding her mind. "Miss Nova here has a good sense of humour, that is all."

Sereia lowered her gaze, avoiding the curious stares of those around her, and brought her goblet to her lips in a feeble attempt to distract herself.

"Sereia—"

The girl sprung from her seat with far more enthusiasm than was necessary. "Time to go for a swim!" she declared with a forced smile, her discomfort palpable, before hastily departing from the table, nearly breaking into a run as she fled the house.

Walburga's gaze shifted to Tom, flickering between the self-satisfied, lazy grin etched on his face and the intensity of his gaze fixed on the doorway through which Sereia had hastily departed through mere moments ago.

"Look at little Sereia starting to charm boys." Abraxas snorted, looking at Antoine with a mirthful smile. "You will have to work overtime to ward off the boys now, mate."

"Shut it. I do not do anything of the sort. She is free to court whomever she likes whenever she likes." He paused, rethinking his words. "Except you all."

"Really? How about the time in third year you hexed Arnold because he kissed her on the cheek?" Avery rose a brow.

"Or the time in fourth year you petrified that git who was going on a date with her?" Malfoy added.

"Remember when—"

"Alright! Alright! So fucking be it! None of you are allowed to pursue anything romantic, sexual— especially sexual— relations with her. Off-limits!"

"Mate, that's unfair! She's not even your sister, you can't put a ban like that!" Avery whined, rolling his eyes in a very exaggerated manner.

"She is like my little sister in every manner except by blood."

Dahlia Greengrass pouted, looking affronted at the way the wizards were behaving. "Leave it be, everyone. Would you rather ruin your friendship with Antoine by pursuing Sereia? The entirety is Hogwarts isn't enough for you all to corrupt?" She questioned. "Leave the poor girl alone."

Riddle observed the scene unfolding with a curious glint in his eyes.

"Thank you, Dahlia." Antoine said gratefully. "Now that everything is loud and clear, let's go join Ria before she starts wondering what took us so long."

Everyone muttered their agreement as they stood.

"Tom, would you like to head to the library first?" Walburga asked as everyone started filing out of the room.

Tom glanced at the witch momentarily before looking away distractedly. "I shall like to rest for a bit before rejoining the company." He did not wait for a reply before striding away in the opposite direction.

Walburga watched his retreating back, the familiar bitter taste feeling her mouth as it always did whenever he disregarded her in such a belittling manner. She begrudgingly followed after the group, glancing back one last time in hopes that Tom also would, but he had already disappeared up the stairs, and the girl heaved a sigh in disappointment.

Her sharp gaze fixated on the distant figure, observing as the girl who managed to coax a rare laugh from Tom Riddle swam gracefully in the water. Sereia Nova had never posed a threat in her mind. Antoine's best friend had always been a sweet little thing, too pure to be around the likes of them. Though Walburga harbored fondness for the girl, her desires lay elsewhere — with Tom Riddle.

She pondered the allure that Sereia held for Tom. Was it her innocence, her sweetness? Or was she simply another conquest in his relentless pursuit to tarnish purity? Perhaps, she mused, innocence was a challenge for him, something to be conquered and corrupted at his whim.

At least that is what Walburga told herself as she smiled bittersweetly at the younger witch.

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

"Ria." Antoine began, his tone firm, signaling to Sereia that a lecture was imminent.

"I know what you're going to say, but it's nothing alright? I am not involved with Riddle...like that." Sereia interjected, her words rushed and defensive, preempting Antoine's anticipated disapproval.

Antoine's furrowed brow softened slightly, but skepticism still lingered in his gaze. With a resigned sigh, he conceded, "I will choose to take your word for it. But I will tell you this, Ria— my friends are all off-limits. They are the worst pick of the bunch for any girl." He paused, as if another thought had just invaded his already disturbed mind. "Actually, just do not go for any Slytherins. You can go for uh...Hufflepuff perhaps? They do not have a bad bone in their body. Be kind and all that shite, yeah? Yeah. No Gryffindorks either I suppose, they're all gits—"

"Tony!"

"What?"

"Would you like to arrange who I will be marrying too? Stop acting like my father. Fine, I will not date your friends out of my respect for you, but other than that you have no right to dictate who I can and can't date."

"But—" Antoine began to protest, but Sereia cut him off with a firm stare.

"Dahlia!" Sereia's sharp call drew the attention of the girl, who began to swim over with a curious expression. Sereia shot a warning look at Antoine, silently telling him to behave.

"Yes, darling?"

"Nothing. It's just an effective way of shutting him up." Sereia smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"What is?"

"Any mention of you."

As Dahlia's cheeks flushed with a soft hue of pink, Antoine's face transformed into a vivid crimson, the color spreading like wildfire across his features. Sereia couldn't suppress a satisfied grin as she watched the effect of her diversion tactic unfold. "Well, I'll leave you be. It's time for my nap!"

"You just woke up!"

"Nope, that was a while ago." "Nope, that was a while ago," she singsonged, her voice carrying over the gentle lapping of the waves as she began trudging out of the water, droplets cascading from her form like shimmering diamonds. Her eyes met Avery's across the distance, his grin mirroring her own playful one as he responded with a mock salute, the sun casting playful glimmers in his eyes.

As she approached the shore, she glanced over her shoulder at the call of her name, catching Abraxas's gaze, his eyes alight with something she could not decipher as he swam towards her, his sleek form slicing effortlessly through the water. His expression morphed into a sickly sweet smile as he drew nearer.

"My dear, dear Sereia," he greeted her with exaggerated warmth, his voice dripping with faux sincerity.

"What is it?" Sereia replied, her tone laced with playful anticipation, already bracing herself for his inevitable request.

"Would you be so kind and bring us a wine?"

Sereia raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you ask one of the house elves?"

"You see, I'm craving a particular one and seeing as the creatures can't read...it complicates things. Can you get me the Chateau d'Yquem?"

Sereia couldn't help but laugh at his audacity, her playful demeanor unwavering. "Does Antoine know you're drinking his most expensive reserves dry?" she retorted, her tone teasing

Abraxas replied with a casual shrug, his smile unapologetic. "He encourages it"

Sereia rolled her eyes. "Alright. But know that you are very annoying." She conceded, her words accompanied by a playful splash in his direction.

"Thank you, Sereia," Abraxas replied, his sweet smile bordering on saccharine as he watched her depart, a twinkle of mischief gleaming in his eyes. Sereia narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously before turning on her heel and heading out of the water. She quickly slipped on her sheer beach cover over her wet swimsuit, debating whether to change into dry clothes or return to the water after fulfilling Abraxas' request.

She hummed a random melody as she walked away from the private beach and slipped into the garden that lead to the winery, running her hands through her wet hair and slicking it back.

She trekked the familiar path through the greenery, each step accompanied by the gentle rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. The summer sun cast golden rays that danced across her skin, warming her with its tender caress. As she neared the fountain, its marble basin shimmered in the sunlight and the girl resisted the urge to dip her fingers into the cool water.

"Out for a stroll, little siren?" A familiar voice, smooth as silk and laced with a taunting edge, shattered the serenity of her surroundings.

Her movements stilled, her senses alert to the presence behind her. She hesitated to turn, wary of facing the figure who she had been trying to cast out of her mind. She knew as soon as she met his eyes the thoughts of yesterday's kiss would come back to haunt her once again—or the bold teasing she had unabashedly engaged in during breakfast.

With a steadying breath, she shut her eyes, grappling with the urge to flee or confront him. Before she could decide, a warm breath ghosted over her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Tom had drawn closer, his proximity suffusing her with a mixture of apprehension and something she dared not name.

"Or have you come to see me beg?" He murmured into her ear.

Suppressing the rising panic in her chest, she attempted to step away, only to find his hand firmly encircling her waist, anchoring her in place. Her breath caught in her throat as his touch ignited a flurry of conflicting emotions within her. Her gaze dropped to the hand sliding further until his entire arm covered her stomach.

"Unhand me, Riddle. I am just going to the winery." Sereia tried to protest against his advances, her voice twinged with defiance that wavered due to his proximity.

"Are you now?" He asked, and even though she could not see him, she could feel the amused smirk that was no doubt on his face.

"Yea—Yes. I am expected to return." She insisted.

Tom hummed, a low, tantalizing sound that sent a tremor through her core. "What a shame," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. Just as she thought he was going to let her go, he abruptly spun her around to face him. Caught off guard, she stumbled, her heart pounding erratically as she braced her hands against his chest lest she crashed into him. "You will not be going back anytime soon."

"What?"

"Can't have you running to Rosier to finish what I started. That would make me unseemly would it not?"

"Riddle, what are you say—"

"It would create the impression that I leave a lady unsatisfied. Which is insulting." His lips brushed hers with every syllable, and Sereia was finding it harder by the second to resist the temptation of him. She desperately willed herself to push him away and leave before the situation would escalate any further. But she was immobilised. He had her right where he wanted, and her traitorous body was craving him. Any further protest was cut short as his lips captured hers in a searing kiss and she found it bothersome how she did not hesitate to kiss him back.

His lips moved with a fervent urgency, coaxing a response from her that she couldn't deny. Each brush of his mouth against hers sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her, erasing whatever had remnants of rational thought.

Her hands moved on their own accord, sliding over his chest, collarbones, and moving up to tangle themselves in his dark hair. He groaned as she tugged at his locks and the world around her fell away at the guttural sound. His kiss was a tempest, fierce and consuming, igniting a fire within her that blazed with undeniable fervor. She yielded to him, her senses overwhelmed by the heady rush of his touch, every nerve in her body electrified.

His hand moved to the hem of sheer cover dress, fingers brushing against her inner thighs before bunching up the fabric and tugging it upwards. Tom stepped towards her, forcing her to blindly walk backwards until she felt marble digging into her back. He broke away from the kiss to momentarily lift her to sit on the edge of the fountain.

Sereia suppressed a whine at the loss of contact, but a loud moan escaped her throat when his lips fell to the hollow of her throat and sucked, no doubt leaving a bruise with his ministrations. She should have told him to stop— or at the very least not mark her up for all to see, but she found she did not care. She wanted—no— needed more of him.

Her fingers dropped to the buttons of his shirt, fumbling, trying to pull them open. She had only gotten half of them undone when he grabbed her wrists. "No." He panted. "This time I will make you beg. We can save that for next time."

Sereia was confused, but was quick to retort. "What makes you think there is going to be a next time?" She asked through laboured breaths, dazed eyes roving over his dilated pupils and his swollen lips. For the first time ever, he looked like a mess, and Sereia could not get enough of the sight.

Tom only smirked in response, his fingers going under her cover to pull at the strings of her bikini bottoms. She trembled beneath his touch, her pulse racing with a heady mix of anticipation and desire.

"Because I am going to make you beg for a next time."

Sereia's jaw dropped when he sunk to his knees, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

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myhyperfixatedmess · 9 months

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Intrusion.

Tom Riddle × Fem!Reader

You always had a hard time understanding why Tom kept you so hidden away. One night something happens that makes you realize why.

Word count: 1.7k

Content warning: Hints of a panic attack, violence, depictions of torture.

Soft!Tom makes an appearance!

You were very aware that Tom kept you at a distance from his...business.

Even during your time at school, he only allowed you to attend the Room of Requirement meetings a couple of times after much pleading. Graduating didn't change the situation much, despite your marriage; you didn't mind not knowing every detail of his plans, but the extent of your seclusion felt odd. You just wanted to understand why he kept you hidden away so intensely.

Most days, you tried to convince yourself that being the wife of the Dark Lord was enough, even if you had no say in his world-altering decisions. It was hard to ignore that some of his followers were unaware of your existence, while others knew you only as "The Dark Lord's mistress," a term you doubted Tom was aware of or would tolerate.

Though a few Death Eaters knew you from your Hogwarts days, most remained tight-lipped around you, offering mere nods or quiet acknowledgments. It was clear they feared Tom greatly; making eye contact with you seemed like a perilous act. You weren't sure if it was due to his direct orders or their assumptions about his expectations. Either way, though you couldn't really fault them for hiding from you. While you weren't scared of Tom, you could understand why others would be.

Quiet apprehension gnawed at you as you contemplated discussing your concerns with Tom. But you reasoned that avoiding potential arguments and trusting him were better choices. After all, you were an adult now, not a teenage worrier. You had married him despite his questionable morals, so who were you to judge?

The muffled conversations behind closed doors and fleeting glimpses of secretive meetings became your new norm. Sometimes you managed to catch glimpses through cracks, only to have the door swiftly shut when you were noticed. While you occasionally wondered about his trust in you, you pushed those doubts away to avoid unnecessary distress. You remained silent, occupying yourself with your own pursuits, whether it was reading, writing, or wandering the halls of the inherited family estate.

On this particular evening, you found yourself in the library, Tom being out for the night, which didn't bother you. As you perused the shelves, a loud bang from downstairs jolted you. Frozen in place, you strained to listen for more sounds, until harsh, unfamiliar voices reached your ears. Loud and aggressive, they echoed from the ground floor.

Panic surged as you realized you were in danger. These voices weren't part of Tom's inner circle, and you backed away from the library door, realizing that someone had broken into your home. The thought of a robbery crossed your mind, but then a chilling realization struck—you hadn't considered the possibility that Tom's ambitious plans might have made enemies.

Your initial instinct was to leave the house, apparate, and contact Tom for help. But as your hand reached for your wand, you remembered it was in your room. Unlike Tom, you couldn't perform wandless magic. Trapped and helpless, the sound of angry shouting grew louder, approaching from downstairs.

With each thud of footsteps ascending the stairs, you strained to catch their words. The first voice, a man's, sent a shiver down your spine as he called out, "Where is that bitch?" It was clear they were after you, and this wasn't just a random intrusion; they intended to harm you.

Anxiety clenched at your heart. You had never felt targeted before, never imagined this vulnerability. You cursed yourself for not being better prepared, for letting yourself be defenseless and alone. As their voices drew nearer, panic coursed through you; you were trapped, with no means of escape.

With painstaking effort, you inched backward against the library wall, the cold surface offering a stark contrast to your racing heart. The air felt thin and suffocating, your breaths shallow and uneven, while beads of sweat dotted your forehead.

They were right outside the door now.

You pressed your hands against the wall, your pulse pounding in your ears, as you prayed for them not to notice you. They pounded on the door, and you clamped your eyes shut, fear tightening its grip on you with each thud.

A shiver of dread ran down your spine as the door gave way, crashing open under their assault. Two men stormed in, wands at the ready. Your body locked up, terror stifling your voice, and you blinked back tears that threatened to betray your composure. This couldn't be real, it couldn't be happening.

The realization hit that running was futile—your exit was blocked. Your heart raced as their eyes settled on you, and you weighed your chances against them without a wand. Your legs trembled as the fear that gripped you teetered on the edge of overwhelming.

"There she is," one of the men sneered, his gaze locking onto you. Panic gripped you tighter, the world narrowing down to their menacing forms.

"We've been looking for you. I'll take her. Come along." His companion's nod was a chilling confirmation, and your pulse quickened as he aimed his wand at you. Their grip tightened, hauling you forward, and you struggled against their grasp. Your voice wavered as you spoke, desperation evident, "Don't do anything foolish. Let me go!"

Their faces twisted with anger at your words, their cruelty evident.

"Voldemort's whore has a temper," the other man taunted, the use of Voldemort's name sending a shock through you. These were Tom's followers, but why target you? They had to know the repercussions of angering him.

"What do you want with me? What are you doing?" you pleaded, flinching when the grip on your arm intensified.

"Enough talking," he snapped, his wand slicing through the air to silence you. Before you could react, the curse fell from his lips.

"Crucio."

Agony erupted, a scream tearing from your throat. Pain seared across your skin, your body convulsing as the torture curse wracked you. Darkness encroached on your vision, and you were thrown backward, a collision with a bookshelf shattering your senses.

As your awareness wavered, a silver dagger gleamed in one captor's hand, your body too weak to move. The other man grabbed your hair, his wand trained on you, while the dagger-wielding one advanced with malicious intent.

"Please, no! Tom will b—"

"Shut it!" the man spat, the blade plunging into your leg. Agony shot through you, your body wracked with pain as your screams filled the room.

"That bastard doesn't even know we're here, but he's gonna regret making a fool out of us," the man hissed, drawing closer. Nausea swelled within you, tears clouding your vision.

"Unhand her." The voice cut through the chaos, familiar and commanding.

"Tom…" you croaked weakly, blinking teary eyes to see him standing behind your assailants. His eyes blazed with fury, and you clung to his presence, your savior in this nightmare.

The attackers froze, their surprise palpable.

"M- My lord," one stammered, and Tom's lip curled with disdain.

"Ah, so it is 'my lord' now?" he seethed, closing in. The men scrambled, leaving you slumped against the bookshelf.

"We meant no disrespect, sir," one attempted, while the other looked on anxiously. "We simply were…"

"Were what?" Tom's anger laced his voice. "Please do explain your assault on my wife."

"My lord," the shorter man bowed, "We didn't know—We just thought she was some intruder!"

The taller man nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, we came for you and saw her! We thought she was breaking in, my lord, I swear!"

The lies were transparent.

"Not only did you invade my home and attack my wife, but you dare lie about it," Tom growled, his gaze steely.

"No, we're—"

"Silence!" Tom's command silenced them both.

"Both of you will go downstairs; I will address this later." The men hurried away, assuming they were off the hook. Tom turned to you, worry etched his features as he reached for your trembling hands.

"My love, can you hear me?" he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. His arms enfolded you, lifting you gently. Pain rippled through you, your vision swimming.

"Everything will be all right now, I am here," he assured softly, but your pain remained relentless. Tom's gaze shifted to your bleeding leg, his brows furrowing in concern.

"You will be fine," he said gently as he cradled you. The pain was overpowering, your vision blurring as you teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

His voice reached you, your consciousness slipping away, but you knew he was there.

And then the darkness enveloped you.

When consciousness returned, you found yourself in your bed, the dull ache in your head the only lingering reminder of the ordeal. Your gaze shifted to your bandaged leg, confirming that the events weren't some nightmarish illusion. Sighing, you realized it had all been real.

You pushed yourself up, cautiously testing your body's limits. Muscles protested the movement, and a groan escaped your lips as pain surged through you. Memories of the harrowing experience played on a loop in your mind, each scene etched with vivid intensity.

Tom's voice interrupted your thoughts. "You need to rest." His presence filled the room, and you met his gaze as he spoke.

"How long was I asleep?" you questioned, trying to make sense of the passage of time.

"13 hours," he replied calmly, offering you a glass of water. He settled beside you on the bed.

"Thirteen hours!?" Shock colored your voice as you nearly dropped the glass. "I was unconscious for thirteen hours?"

Tom's reassurance came with a touch. "It is okay, you're safe now," he said, his arms encircling you. The glass of water quickly emptied as you downed it, your body yearning for hydration after the ordeal.

"So, what happened to the intruders?" you ventured, your apprehension clear in your voice.

"They have been dealt with," Tom's response was clipped, his demeanor stern. You understood the implication behind his words and chose not to press further.

"I'm sorry, Tom," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. Fatigue washed over you, threatening to pull you back into sleep.

"For what?" he inquired gently.

"Being reckless," you admitted, your eyelids growing heavy.

"I was careless too," he confessed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "They are gone now. I will never let any harm come to you again."

"Promise?" you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed.

"I promise," his reply was tender, and with a content smile, you surrendered to sleep once more.

#tom riddle x you #x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #female reader

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beekeepingageissome · 6 months

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Me when alabaster skin dark-haired men

#tomriddle#kazbrekker#jd#

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x female reader #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #tom riddle fic #grishaverse #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz x reader #kaz x y/n #kaz x you #tom riddle x you #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fluff

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sunflower-sitara · 1 year

Text

Tom Riddle x Reader [smut]

[arranged marriage au!]

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you can't believe you are married to Tom Riddle.

as a pure blood, you were expected and prepared by your mother to get married to another pureblooded man, preferably a Malfoy or a Black.

but no amount of your mother's preparation or your sheer confidence could make you face for this.

as your started removing your jewellery, one by one slowly, you started thinking of your new chapter in life.

you have no idea how to talk to him.

sure, you've seen each other at Hogwarts, and he has been tutoring you for potions since you were weak in that subject,

but you weren't considered as "best friends" for that matter.

heck, you two weren't considered as friends too.

you were just a mere acquaintance of his; nothing more, nothing less.

as you were busy dwelling in your own thoughts, you did not hear the door open. nor did you hear Tom coming inside and halting as he saw you in front of the dressing mirror.

it was only when he cleared his throat, while closing the bedroom door and locking it, you looked up at the mirror to find him looking at you, an indescribable face.

your brain immediately went into 'shut down' mode as you fumbled around with your jewels, thinking as to how to avoid the main topic swirling in both, Tom's and your minds,

the first night.

both of you realized it was inevitable.

Tom took the first initiative; he came closer to you, taking slow yet steady steps, almost like a predator, and stood behind you, keeping a decent distance between you and him.

but you were within his arm's reach.

before Tom's entrance, you had thought of changing your wedding dress into something comfortable, but now that thought felt far away as he was just behind you, a mere few steps gap in between.

so, you decided to just change in the bathroom.

to avoid any sexual tension, you had thought of turning towards him and just excuse yourself out of this suffocating aura. but then you realized, you needed help with the buttons of your dress.

your eyes widen, and he saw your reaction through the mirror.

a confused look settled over Tom's face, and it soon went away as it came when he heard your meek voice.

"um...can you help me unbutton my dress? they're at the back and i can't quite reach them..."

with a slight blush on both of your faces, Tom took two steps towards you, and you could feel his long fingers collecting your strands of hair as he brushed them aside.

he then started to unbutton your dress, using both hands as his concentration was solely on the pearly buttons.

you saw through the mirror, as his eyebrows were crunched as he struggled with some of your hair strands tangled with the button.

you let out a hiss as he tried to yank out the hair strands, and he looked up to see your reflection on the mirror, a crunched-up expression on your face while looking at him.

his mouth opened slightly as his mind ran with wild fantasies about you moaning underneath him, the same face you'd make while he pounded into you.

a tent slowly started to form as he couldn't take it anymore. he was tired of being a gentleman now.

so, he grabbed your arm and twirled you around to make you look at him directly; to see his desperation and love through his eyes, without using a damn mirror.

you were shorter than him, your head reaching up to his chest. so, when he suddenly pulled you towards him, you felt your face crash up against a brick wall.

oh, never mind. that was just your husband's chest.

you looked up at him with your alluring eyes, making his breath hitch.

"Tom..." you whispered, and it was the final straw for him as he dived in for a long kiss.

immediately, as if you had wanted it, you closed your eyes, kissing him back with equal force. you wrapped your hands around his neck, as he leaned down to get better, more access to the kiss.

he pulled you up to himself as he staggered backwards and sat on the recliner with you on top of him, still kissing. he pulled the switch of the recliner which allowed the sofa to give his legs a push upwards, as he leaned back.

you two broke the kiss, panting as he pulled you for a kiss again. this time he used one hand for removing your buttons, and you left out a moan when he skillfully removed the button which was tangled with your hair strands.

Riddle smirked. 'so she likes it when I pull her hair during sex, huh.'

as he went down, releasing the buttons quickly, you felt you dress becoming looser and looser and you pressed against him, leaving no space between you two.

Tom sensed your perked nipples as he broke the kiss and looked into your dazed eyes with a feral look.

his soft touches on your back gave your weird tingles on your core as you felt goosebumps arising under the area his fingertips caressed with your skin. you arched your back at the sudden intrusive feelings.

Tom then held you as he got up from the sofa and carried you to the bed within two long strides. He placed you down gently as he started to kiss your cheek, jaw and then your neck as he started biting the soft skin.

he moaned while peppering you with kisses and small love bites, making sure he covers your whole neck area was covered in reddish-purple marks.

he shimmied you out of the dress slowly as he basically got a strip show from you. he bit his lips as he saw how painfully hard your nipples looked.

he let out a shuddered breath as his eyes flickered to yours.

you looked like a frightened doe, looking at him with widen eyes and parted lips, almost as if asking him to ruin you.

he swooshed in as he latched his mouth to a nipple, softly sucking on it and then giving a sharp bite which earned him a short shriek out from you.

he started kissing your body, licking and biting the soft skin as his right hand went underneath to cup your vagina; you release a breathy moan in return.

he smirked, and let his index and middle fingers softly circle over your slit, and prodded the fingers inside you.

you tensed up, but he was quick to resolve your discomfort as he sucked onto your other nipple.

you felt pleasure rushing through your veins as you calmed down, and encouraged him to go faster with his fingers.

But Tom Riddle certainly did not want to listen to you.

as soon as you felt your first-ever orgasm rippling through, he immediately sensed it and pulled his fingers away, teasing you.

you gave out a cry as you craned your head up to see your husband's face in-front of your vagina, his eyes looking up at you as he smirked and let out a hot breath, sending vibrations throughout your body as you felt the hotness tickle your vulva.

you felt heat rise up as he got up and positioned himself towards you, making sure his hard penis makes slight contact with you aching pussy, and both of you let out a moan as the slight brush between the genitals.

"You know, I've always wanted to have you like this, you underneath me, our wedding rings shining as you scream my name." He declared.

And Tom Riddle always gets what he wants.

he pushed himself inside and you felt immense pain as you screamed, holding his forearms as you cried about being full.

Tom saw your expression and bent down to kiss your tears away. he also saw that the bedsheets were getting a little bloodied.

'Expected from a virgin', he thought.

he waited until you calmed down, and slowly started to move, making sure to see you every once in a while, for your expression.

your scrunched up face slowly melted into pure bliss, and you shyly asked him to speed up.

he just smirked and did as he was asked, since you did ask him nicely.

soon enough, as the both of you felt that feeling again, Tom fastened his pace to make sure both of you would cum on the same time. this was something he had envisioned while being with you.

he was blabbering; incoherent words spewing out of his mouth as he talked about how he wished to have you all to himself, while being at hogwarts.

you were confused at first, as he never did interact that good with you anyway; but then you felt the euphoria spreading inside you.

You had had your first-ever orgasm. And Tom had too.

He came inside with a chant of your name like a prayer.

after a few minutes, when the absurd feeling of being high finally diminished, Tom pulled out from you slowly, handling you like a porcelain doll, and stood up to go to the bathroom.

then he came with a damp towel, and started cleaning you, and helped you wear a nightgown he fished out from the closet. He wore his nightwear, changed the bedsheets, and laid you down on the freshly made bedsheets, lying beside you.

he spooned you as he turned off the lights, and whispering a small 'goodnight', he went into sleep.

You wanted to ask him by what he meant when he said about his wishes with yourself during hogwarts, but decided against it as you felt yourself tired and sleepy.

so, you just opted to ask him in the morning.

Besides, being with Tom like this felt surreal.

oh, you still can't believe you're married to Tom Riddle.

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#harry potter #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #harry potter smut #one-shot #tom marvolo riddle #reader insert #female reader #arranged marriage au

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 month

Text

Me & The Devil P.2 🌘| Harry Potter Imagine

takes place during HBP & DH1

Part 1 here | HP Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Black!Sister reader x HP characters (platonic), Severus Snape x reader (platonic/semi-romantic)

Content Warnings: death, violence, profanity, angst, slight cannon divergence, mentions of torture and blood, set during the book timeline of the 1990s | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested yes/no

Premise: A dark storm is brewing over Hogwarts. The return of Voldemort and his Death Eaters spark unease in the Golden Trio. For a certain member of the Noble House of Black, she takes on a new role of double agent with the partnership between her and a certain Hogwarts professor. Will she survive the ordeal and get her freedom when it's all over? The odds are slim when acting as a loyal servant and hunted by aurors.

Note: Snape is 37 in this like the books and reader is 31. Part 3 will be the final chapter to this miniseries but I have no idea when it will be posted. Hope y’all like this one! Also near the end the final scenes are inspired by Wanda in MOM so yeah that belongs to Marvel

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Months went by. Waiting. Scheming. Y/n felt her mind deteriorate by the day. Between Bellatrix’s constant complaints of Draco’s failures and Narcissa’s moping, Y/n spent most of her time in the attic of Malfoy Manor. Hidden away to perfect her spells and create new ones. She even managed to successfully become an animagus.

A black crow.

How fitting.

At times Y/n found herself sitting in front of the window. Especially when it rained. The lightning in the distance, the crisp air filling the attic walls. Lost in her thoughts, Y/n would caress the silver jewelry laid on her left ring finger.

Once a month she’d receive a letter from Severus, unbeknownst to the others, detailing Draco’s attempts and all the times Snape’s had to cover for him. As part of their deal to keep quiet of the others' disloyalty and motives behind actions, Snape agreed to update her on Draco and keep the Order off Y/n’s trail. For Y/n’s side of the bargain, she agreed to deflect suspicion on him from their fellow Death Eaters. Specifically her sisters.

And what better way to do that then in holy matrimony.

“You want to get married?” she scoffed, placing her wine glass on the coaster. Having left with her sisters following the unbreakable vow, Y/n returned later that night after Severus sent an owl. Sitting in the same leather chair from before, “You humor me.”

“I can assure you I am everything but comical, Y/n,” he drawled, standing by the fireplace. The sound of wood crackling filled the room. “This is not an arrangement I suggest lightly.”

Seeing how serious he was, Y/n’s demeanor changed. “Wow,” her tone lowered, finger raising to tap her lips. Unable to read her mind since she was a gifted Occulmens like himself, Snape was left to wonder what Y/n was thinking. Truth be told the woman was more impressed than shocked by his proposal. “I think that’s the first time I’ve been rendered speechless, Severus.” Standing, Y/n grabbed her glass and approached the man. “You truly believe this would work? Proposing a marriage between us….” she trailed, glancing at the fire briefly, “is intriguing. Tell me more.”

Snape’s expression remained the same, “It is simply a matter of convenience.” No need to sugar coat it, “We want to keep our secrets hidden. So long as you can assure your sisters stay off my back…..I’ll make sure the Order stays off yours. We play the part of a happy married couple when operating business with the Dark Lord, and I will do everything in my power to get your freedom when this all ends.”

Y/n liked what she was hearing. The more she thought about it, the more engrossed she became. Marrying Snape wasn’t ideal--as the concept itself she did not care for--but Y/n could not deny the idea made her curious. Plus Severus was handsome, a talented wizard, and obviously, he knew her motives for following Voldemort. What her end goal was. She needed to keep him close.

“I think I’ll find playing the part of a smitten wife will be rather easy,” she rasped, stepping closer to Snape so their chests were nearly touching. Walking her fingertips up the length of his arm, Y/n leaned closer to Snape which ignited a sharp breath from the man. She smelled of expensive perfume. Their closeness allowed him to see how her eyes turned from their usual coldness to something more lustful. Almost sinister. His reaction made her smirk, “Confident you can manage the same….husband?”

Now, almost a year later, the two managed to successfully keep their union hidden from the Order. All while any suspicion the Death Eaters had of Snape seemed to disappear. Bellatrix, initially furious and doubtful of their ‘relationship’, soon began to trust him. Still, the witch grimaced each time the pair greeted the other with an affectionate kiss. Or when Y/n took claim to Snape’s lap during meetings. An action which surprised the man himself in the beginning.

Each letter Severus sent was met with one in return, however Y/n was careful to only send her owl in the late hours of the night. When her family was sound asleep. Signing the parchment with only her initials, but instead of B as the ending initial it was S. She’d never admit it aloud, but Y/n felt a sense of comfort with Severus. There was an overwhelming amount of hate in her heart, but the pinch of sanity left in her soul connected to him. Which is not a surprise. He is, of course, the only person who can relate to her.

Neither would call it love. Y/n possessed no love. And Snape lost his when Lily died. They had mutual respect and care for each other as their partnership grew. Finding the other’s presence calm despite the world around them going to shit.

The news of Draco’s success in connecting the two cabinets came from Bellatrix’s glee, the woman bursting into the attic with a loud, “It’s time, sister.” Reluctantly, Y/n trailed Bellatrix to Knockturn Alley, where they met several of their associates.

Dark clouds painted the sky. Thunder rumbling. It set the tone of the evening.

Y/n stayed stoic the entire journey. Hating every minute, yet doing nothing to escape. Where could she even go? The mark on her arm prevented her from doing so. Until Voldemort was defeated, the only way for her to stay alive was to continue the act of a loyal servant.

Draco was gone when the group breached the cabinet in a cloud of black smoke. The boy rushed to find Dumbledore and complete his task. He found the man on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower. Unaware his longtime rival, Harry Potter, was below him, watching the scene play out.

The others arrived to witness Draco complete the task, however, in the end Snape was the one to administer the curse. And so the greatest wizard in history fell from the sky.

Y/n kept her eyes on Severus the entire time. Watching his reaction. When he went through with the unthinkable, Y/n wasted no time in rushing to his side. Cupping his face, she noticed the dissociative expression Snape wore. Mind processing what he had done. “Severus,” he didn’t respond, making her shake his shoulders, “look at me.” Finally he meets her eye and the woman matches his anxious demeanor. “We have to go. Now.”

Clutching his robe, the two push Draco in the direction of the Death Eaters. Bellatrix’s maniacal laughter rings as she shoots a spell into the sky to bring forth the Dark Lord’s symbol in the clouds. Not long after the tower was surrounded by members of the Order, ensuing a battle between the groups. Y/n tried to avoid dueling as much as possible. Not wanting to harm anyone, especially the kids in the school.

Cutting the corner after dodging a spell from her niece Nymphadora, Y/n spotted the wretched Fenrir Greyback attacking a man she didn’t recognize. Judging by the wild red hair he possessed, she assumed it was a Weasley. Greyback’s back was toward her, unaware she stood behind him. From the looks of it, the redhead was losing the fight.

Not sure what came over her at that moment, Y/n raised her wand and shouted, “Stupefy!” The werewolf was flung into the wall behind him, falling unconscious.

“Bill!” a voice screamed, Y/n turning to see a young woman running to where the Weasley laid. Bloodied and knocked out. Fluer dropped beside him, sobbing at the state of her fiance. She glanced up to see Y/n, immediately becoming frozen with fear while pleading with her to help. “Y-you--H-he’s been--.”

Cursing to herself, Y/n approached the two. “He wasn’t bit,” adjusting her dress skirt, she grabbed the cuffs of Bill’s jacket and gestured for Fluer to help. Together they moved him to a concealed area away from the battle. “He’s been scratched.” Having studied werewolves while in school, the woman was well educated on the subject. Muttering a healing spell, Y/n attempted to at least stop the bleeding, however, she knew the extent of his injuries were serious. “Nevertheless, the wounds are cursed. They’ll scar.”

Fluer watched her carefully, “W-why are you helping us?” Y/n gave no answer, instead casting a final healing spell before standing up to leave. In her peripheral vision, she noticed movement from Greyback, and sent a second stun his way to keep him unconscious. She always hated him, so it gave her great pleasure to pu thim down.

Truth be told Y/n didn’t know why she helped the injured Weasley. It would have best suited her to get the hell out of there and let whatever outcome happen. Whether that be Greyback killing the man or Bill successfully overpowering the werewolf. But instead, she cursed her associate. Saving the life of ‘the enemy’.

Several agonizing minutes passed before Y/n managed to escape the tower. At Snape’s order, she ran deep into the forest until she was far enough to apparate. Back at the manor she was immediately questioned by her sister.

“Is Draco okay,” Narcissa grabbed Y/n’s wrist to stop her from escaping to the attic. Eyes glossy with tears, “Did he--.”

“Your son is fine, Narcissa,” she roughly pulled away. “You have my husband to thank for that--he finished the job.” There was immediate relief from Narcissa, exhaling the breath she had been holding. Y/n went straight to the liquor cabinent, taking a glass and pouring a generous amount before downing it. She then refilled the glass, offering it to her sister without a word. Once Narcissa took it Y/n kept the bottle for herself, saying nothing more as she made her way to the attic.

It wasn’t long before the others arrived. Y/n heard Narcissa’s cry of relief upon seeing Draco. Bellatrix was busy scolding Greyback--something that brought a smile to her face. Other murmurs were made out, but hard to identify with all the noise. Moments later she heard the fast approaching sound of footsteps nearing her door. Jolting from her bed with her wand raised at whoever was about to breach it. Only when it was revealed to be Severus did Y/n lower her guard, rolling her eyes, “What have I told you about--.”

Snape slammed the door shut, muttering a silencing charm which caused Y/n to raise her brow. “We need to talk.” Her guarded expression returned, but Snape beat her before she could question him. “I know you stunned the werewolf to save Weasley.” All movement from the woment seized, frozen in shock.

“How do you know--.”

“I saw you with Miss. Delacour, Y/n,” Snape peers down at her with visible frustration. “Why would you risk such a thing? If you had been caught--.”

“But I wasn’t, Severus,” she interrupts, eyes flicking to the door in fear someone was listening, but then she remembered the spell he cast. “I was careful. You should know better than to underestimate me. And to answer your question….” she turned away from him, hands on her hips as she turned her focus to the woods beyond her window. “I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did--It just happened. Maybe it’s the fact the Weasley’s are distant family. Or because I fucking hate Greyback.” She throws her hands up in defeat, “Or I want the Order to have all its members to better their chances at winning this damn war. Maybe…” her hands fall back to her sides, “deep down there’s some humanity left in me.” The words were so low it was barely a whisper. Y/n shook her head, the speck of softness replaced with disinterest.

“Whatever it was,” turning back to him, Y/n narrows her eyes in warning. “It’s no longer our concern. Dumbledore is dead, you killed him.” footsteps echo against the wood as she approaches Snape, noticing his expression change at the mention of the headmaster. “He will be plotting his next move. We need to remain focused--I expect his attention will be on us more now given the circumstances.”

Snape knows she’s right. Killing Albus only shined a spotlight on him, and in turn on Y/n. He was now labeled public enemy #1 in the eyes of the Order. Voldemort himself will likely turn to Snape. They will have to up their game, continuing the act of a happy couple. Well happy as one can be in the middle of a war.

That summer was endless torture following the Headmaster’s death. Y/n not only had to deal with Voldemort growing stronger, but also the return of Lucius from Azkaban. It did bring the witch great joy to see the dark circles beneath his eyes and matted hair. One year in prison did a number on him.

Lucky for Lucius it was only one year. Had it been 15 like Y/n, he’d surely gone mad. Thankfully the two rarely saw each other. Not long after his release following Dumbledore’s death Y/n moved into Severus' home. Only returning to the mansion when necessary.

At every Death Eater meeting Y/n had to fight yawning with how bored she was, keeping her expression blank even when addressed by Voldermort from time to time. The man wasn’t blind. Well aware the youngest Black was not as forthcoming with her praises to him like Bellatrix. Never voicing her opinions, while also keeping any objections to herself like a smart person would do. He never fully trusted her. Even though she was married to one of his most trusted advisors, something in the back of his mind told Voldemort she’d be the first to turn on him. Without proof, Voldemort kept a close eye.

The meeting tonight was just like any other. Seated at the massive dining table in Malfoy Manor, Voldemort at the head while the Black’s and Malfoy’s flanked to the right. Y/n seated beside Draco, far from her sisters. Very telling of her attitude towards them.

Severus was the last to arrive, dark cloak tailing behind him. His entrance caught everyone’s attention, while his was on his colleague hanging in the air. Muggle studies professor Charity Burbage. The wounds on her body indicated she had been subjected to torture.

“Severus,” Voldemort greeted, “I was beginning to worry you had lost your way. Come. We’ve saved you a seat.” The headmaster took claim to the only free chair at the table, bidding a look to his wife, to which she slightly shook her head. Silently saying, “I had no part in this.”

Voldemort then said, “Do you bring news, I trust?”

“It will happen Saturday next, at nightfall.”

“I’ve heard differently, my Lord,” Yaxley interrupted at the other end of the table, then proceeds to say he believes Harry will be moved at the end of the month. The 30th of July. The day before his 17th birthday.

“This is a false trail,” Snape insists. “The auror office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter. “Those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the ministry.”

The Death Eater seated beside Y/n laughed, “Well, they got that right aren’t they.” Several at the table joined in the laughter. The youngest Black’s expression was tight, plastered with annoyance.

“What’s say you, Pius?” Voldemort addresses the man seated at the opposite head of the table.

Nagini curled herself next to the chair as he answered, “One hears many things, my Lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear.” Voldemort chuckles.

“Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, prove most useful, Pius.” The Death Eater appears pleased by the compliment. Voldemort turns back to Snape, “Where will he be taken, the boy?”

“To a safe house. Most likely the home of someone in the Order. I’m told it’s been given every manner of protection possible, once there it will be impractical to attack him.”

Suddenly the conversation is interrupted by Bellatrix. “My Lord, I’d like to volunteer myself for this task.” She leans against the table, voice dropping, “I want to kill the boy.”

“Of course you would,” Y/n thinks to herself, holding back the urge to roll her eyes. Frankly she found her sister to be stupid to ask such a thing. Considering Voldemort mentions his desire to kill Harry Potter everyday. And with the prophecy, there’s no way he’d allow anyone else the opportunity to do the deed.

In the back, Charity let out a haunting groan, causing Voldermort to shout, “Wormtail! Have I not spoken to you about keeping our guest’s quiet?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the man spoke with urgency. “Right away, my Lord.” As he scurried off, Voldemort returned his attention to Bellatrix.

“As inspiring as I find your bloodlust, Bellatrix,” the hope was clear in her eyes, disappearing with his next words. “I must be the one to kill Harry Potter.” With that she curled back into her seat, Y/n’s lips raising in a satisfied smirk.

“But,” he rises from his chair, “I face an unfortunate complication.” As much as Y/n wanted to tune out this conversation, the nature of it was hard to dismiss. Especiall when the man walked behind the chairs on her side of the table. Brushing past her sisters before ending beside Lucius. There was satisfaction seeing him visibly afraid of Voldemort. A smirk on her lips when he was to give up his wand, a wizard’s most prized possession.

Her expression shifted when Charity’s brought to the center of the table. Death Eaters laughing at her despair and cringing with disgust at her profession. Y/n moves her gaze to Severus, who’s emotionless to Charity’s pleas. Then when the woman’s killed and her body drops to the table, Y/n lifts her hand to grasp Draco’s wrist. Squeezing it in warning for him to control himself when she sees his distraught state in the corner of her eyes.

The action surprises the boy. Draco sucking in a breath and forcing himself to relax. Once he does, Y/n removes her touch and waits to be dismissed by Voldemort. As soon as the order is given she’s quick to leave the table, taking Snape’s outstretched hand where he apparates them back home.

“How do you plan--?” he doesn’t let her finish the question.

“I have it covered.” Moving to his study, he hears her footsteps behind him, Y/n slamming the door shut once they’ve entered. He looked annoyed, “This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it does!” she shouted, making him clench his jaw. Ever since the incident at the Astronomy tower the two had been on edge with each other. For one, the Order discovered their marriage causing Y/n to lose her shit. Now she was public enemy #2 in their eyes. Or 3 if you count Voldermort at the top. Her odds of the Order leaving her the fuck alone decreased immensly.

Second, Snape told her of his and Dumbledore’s arrangement. That the headmaster asked Snape to kill him. A secret Y/n had trouble wrapping her head around and prayed to a higher power no one, especially Bellatrix, found out about.

Crossing over to him where he stood at his desk, Y/n caught his wrist to make him look at her. “In case you have forgotten, dear husband, we are playing both sides right now. You say you want to protect Harry Potter…just how do you plan to do that during an ambush you helped orchestrate? What the hell are we supposed to do if Harry Potter dies at his hands Saturday next?” Y/n squeezed his wrist tighter, “I’m putting all my trust into Severus Snape. You promised me my freedom when this was all over.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Y/n,” he removes himself from her grip, “You say you trust me. Do so, and you won’t be let down.”

Y/n didn’t know where it all went wrong. One moment she was flying in the sky, the next she’s being rammed into by Bill Weasley’s Thestral. Pain erupted in her chest, likely from a broken rib and caught herself on the creature's satchel. Her hand is then grabbed by the imposter Harry seated behind Bill, keeping Y/n steady to prevent falling to her death. Using her talent of legitimins, Y/n identifies the imposter as Bill’s fiance Fluer.

“You’re not Harry Potter,” she whispers, causing Harry (Fluer) to widen her eyes. The accusation was confirmed when Fluer’s voice responded, “How did you know?” Before Y/n could answer, however, the world around her became black. Having been stunned by Bill who realized what was happening behind him.

Acting fast, Fluer reached with her other hand to further grasp Y/n’s now limp body onto the Thestral.

“What are you doing?” Bill shouted over the chaos, “She’s one of them!”

“And she saved your life in the Astronomy tower, William!” Fluer screamed back. Using all her might, she hauled Y/n over the bottom half of the creature. Gripping the material of her robes and dress while ducking at the incoming curses around them.

When they finally made it to the Burrow, the shaky landing caused Fluer to lose her hold. Y/n fell to the ground, still unconscious. Bruises were sure to form on her body. Bill leaped off the Thestral, helped Fluer off and rushed to Y/n. After confirming she was alive by pressing his fingers to her pulse, the oldest Weasley took the death eater into his arms and followed Fluer into the house. But not before telling Fluer to take her wand which had been discarded into a ditch.

“Wait here,” he said, placing Y/n in the care of Fluer by setting her on a bench outside the door, Bill entered to find the others gathered around an injured George. After the shock wore off of his brother’s state, Bill announced the death of Mad-eye and departure of Mundungus. Deepening the already intense mood.

“There’s something else,” he hesitated, eyes flickering to find everyone staring at him with unease. They watched Bill exit the house, only to return a second later dragging the last person they ever expected. Gasps rang out, wands drawn in Y/n’s direction. The witch barely conscious but fighting against Bill’s hold. Eventually succumbing to sleep once again due to the pounding in her head.

With the help of Remus, the two propped Y/n in a chair, casting a spell to bind her hands and legs. “Where’s her wand?” Remus urgently looked around, relieved to see the object in Fluer’s possession. He turned to Bill, “What the hell happened?”

As the oldest Weasley explained, Molly approached the woman, assessing her carefully. Y/n had dirt and grime in her hair. A small cut to her temple. Likely from a rock when she fell from the Threstral. Her breathing was shaky, pained groans escaping her mouth which Molly assumed was from trauma to her chest. Although the others were against it, Molly began performing healing spells on Y/n, “Had it not been for her my son would be dead! I do not care what side she is on--I shall offer the same courtesy.”

The group was alerted to Y/n’s consciousness twenty minutes later when she groaned. Shifting in the chair, her eyelids fluttered briefly before opening to bright lights. Moaning, Y/n straightened up aware of the audience in front of her, however she did not appear concerned. Even with several wands pointing at her. “Hmmmph,” she blinks a few times, settling her gaze on Remus, “what an unpleasant situation we have here. I hoped to be dead before experiencing this.”

It pained Remus to hear her words. Thinking back to that little girl he’d met on the corner of Diagon Alley with James, perched on Sirius’ hip. That little girl was gone. In her place was a woman with the Devil on her shoulder. “We don’t want to hurt you, Y/n.”

Tilting her head as though she found his statement funny, she replies “Is that supposed to make me feel at ease?” rolling her eyes she adds, “Surely you could’ve come up with something better.”

Remus sighed, realizing it was about to be a long night. “We’re willing to negotiate terms if you provide us with information. A lesser sentence if you will,” he chose his next words carefully, seeing her demenor shift, “so long as you are upfront and answer all of our questions with honesty.” Y/n’s face tightened, no longer humored. Remus felt his stomach lurch, not breaking the intense eye contact she set with him.

“You threaten me--.”

“It’s not a threat--,” he insists but Y/n continues.

“With a cell in Azkaban and expect me to comply? By being a snitch?” she shakes her head, eyes full of fury. “Go to hell, Remus Lupin.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Oh?” She grumbles with a glare, “and how else do you suggest it be? I’m not stupid--a tad mad if we want to get technical, but you all have yourselves to blame for that.” Y/n was referring to the Order not taking her in during the First Wizarding War. Sirius warned them of his family and the Death Eaters recruiting her at a young age. Yet no attempt to protect Y/n was initiated.

The werewolf’s face fell, “Had we known--.”

“Known what?!” She jumped forward in her chair as the dam of pent up resentment and anger broke, making several flinch at the sudden movement. A few wands pointed up but she paid them no mind. “That I’d become a Death Eater against my will? That I’d be forced to use the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottoms or face my sister’s wrath?” She spat with ferocity. Pupils nearly pitch black it made her appear demonic. “You knew what my family was like! Sirius knew--It’s why he left! And you did nothing to save me.” Leaning back in the chair, Y/n finished with, “Go ahead and kill me. I’m not telling you shit.”

Remus runs a hand through his hair, his patience running thin and stress levels rising. “Y/n, I’m trying to help you here. We’re giving you the opportunity to avoid a lifetime in jail if you help us--help us end this war.” When his efforts are exhausted Remus gestures to the man behind him, “Kingsley has Veritaserum and we will use it if necessary.” Now this has her smirking, chin raising in challenge.

“Go ahead,” her voice lowers an octave, sending chills along his arms, “I welcome you to.” Weary of her acceptance, the adult members of the Order all exchange looks before Kingsley approaches. Y/n tilts her head back, watching Kingsley unscrew the vial and pour the tiny amount of liquid onto her tongue. Once it’s entered her stream, the woman cracks her neck and returns her attention to Remus.

He clasped his hands in his lap, leaning in his chair. “How’d you know about tonight?”

Y/n pretends to think, “I think I saw an advertisement in the Daily Prophet. Yeah,” she nods her head, acting serious. “That was it.”

Remus’s own head falls to his chest, the others visibly confused. The potion was to make her tell the truth. Pretty much against her will. Thinking it may have not settled in yet, Remus asks another question. “Who told him we were moving Harry?”

Deciding to play along, Y/n shrugs her shoulders, “Yaxley.” Lie. She held back a chuckle at his confused reaction.

“How did he know?”

“Overheard it.” Lie.

“Where?”

“Diagon Alley I assume.” Lie.

“From who?”

“I don’t know.” Lie.

“But he’s the one who told Voldemort.” Y/n rolled her eyes at that, gesturing to her binded hands.

“Obviously since we’re sitting in this predicament.” She sees the frustration on Remus, as well as the others. Yet, the witch couldn’t help but feel entertained. “Anything else?”

“What’s your relationship to Severus Snape?”

“He’s my husband,” She didn’t miss the way the Order reacted to the news. Upset but not surprised. No point in lying. They already knew about their marriage from what Snape told her. The truth of why, however, was still a secret.

“Why did he kill Dumbledore?” Harry stepped forward, drawing her attention to him. Anger was written all over his face. Filled with absolute hatred. Something Y/n had expected when her husband murdered the man he looked up to.

“You were there, right?” she asked, head tilting with curiosity. “Snape mentioned you’d been below the observatory deck.” Tsking, Y/n surveyed him. She was getting under his skin. “Why do you think he did it?”

“I think he did it to save himself. He was a coward,” Harry saw the way her face tightened. Taking offense to his words. A mere speck of what someone could label as affection or respect to her spouse.

“Severus Snape is many things,” she sounded sinister, anger seeping off every word. “But a coward is not one of them.”

“Fat lot of good coming from you.” Harry antagonized her. “You hightailed it out of the ministry when Sirius died. He was your own cousin.”

“My cousin who left me a sitting duck for the wolves,” Y/n reminded the boy, temper rising. An indicator with how her voice was strained. “Let’s not forget you all thought he was responsible for betraying your parents. Didn’t even hesitate to believe he was guilty.” That cut them all deep. “And I adored Sirius at one point in life. Much like you, Harry Potter,” she let out a deep sigh, attempting to calm herself, “look at where it got me.” Exhaustion was beginning to take over the witch. Her body ached and there was a pounding in her head. Molly’s healing spells worked to patch any internal injuries Y/n had, but she still was drained from the whole ordeal.

They were getting off track. Having had enough of the tension, Remus butted in, “Answer the question, Y/n. Why did Snape kill Dumbledore?”

“I don’t know,” she simply stated. Lie. “He didn’t say. Although…I can only assume it was to spare my poor nephew.” Another shrug, “And survive the unbreakable vow. Which you already know of.”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t believe you.” His gut was telling him there was more to the story.

“Harry, she took the Veritaserum,” Hermoine pointed out gently, missing the flicker of amusement from Y/n. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Hermoine’s right, Harry,” Ron agreed, moving beside his friend. “There’s no way she could be lying.”

“How much did you give her, Kingsley?” Arthur questioned, also suspicious of Y/n’s answers. Kingsley held up the vial. More than half was consumed.

“Enough.”

“Something’s off,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. A bickering match ensued between members of the Order. Harry, Arthur, and even Y/n’s niece, Tonks, had difficulty believing Y/n told the truth. The majority, however, voiced opposition.

“Veritaserum is a very potent and strong potion, Harry,” Remus stood from his chair, but before he could say anything else, Y/n’s voice took over.

“Which you just wasted.”

Silence consumes the room. Processing what she said. That’s not possible.

Heads turning to the witch, Y/n starts to chuckle in delight. A sight unnerving to the Order as it becomes more deranged. Harry looked to his friends for an answer, but they were just as perplexed as him. Y/n’s voice turns taunting, “Oh my, you lot really are daft at times. Have you forgotten? Or did you believe it to be a rumor?” Her grin is wicked, finding the scene entertaining much to their dismay. “I’m a skilled Occulmens.”

It was as though the dementors arrived with how cold the air became. Everyone falters, stilling at the revelation. It could only mean one thing:

Everything Y/n said potentially was a lie.

The Death Eater tsked, “What do you think I did with all that time I had rotting in the middle of the ocean?” she laughs again, more menacingly. “Your little potion is useless! My mind is more protected than Azkaban. For all you know I fabricated everything I just told you.” Her taunting laugh continues, shredding the last ounce of patience the Order had for her.

Remus kneeled in front of her chair and smacked the table, causing everyone besides Y/n to flinch. “Enough of these games! I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt knowing you’d been forced into this life, but you have proven to be not so different from your associates.” Now that was a nail to the coffin. Any and all of Remus’s hope for Y/n having some level of good in her gone. “This is your final warning--or we will throw you in Azkaban for the rest of your life for good!”

Never straying her stare, the Death Eater murmered cooly, “You have no idea how reasonable I’ve been.” This time it was Remus’s turn to scoff.

“Holding children hostage at the Ministry, attacking Hogwarts, marrying Snape, and sending assassins after the officials who locked you up,” He lists off, surprising the Order with the last detail. They had heard rumors of Azkaban guards and Ministry officials killed in the last few months, but assumed it was Bellatrix. “I don’t see how that’s being reasonable.”

Y/n gave a sound that was a mix of a chuckle and scoff, leaning forward in her chair. “Sending those assassins after them instead of myself was mercy.” A chill rose, Harry’s intuition telling him something was about to happen. “And despite your hypocrises and insults I have warned you time and time again to simply get out of my way.” Remus saw her hands fidget, tightening his grip on his wand.

“You’ve exhausted my patience,” Her voice lowered once more, almost to a whisper as her bottom lip quivered. “But I do hope you understand…that even now--with what’s about to happen…..” lips curled into a deathly smirk. “This is me being…reasonable.”

Faster than the speed of light, Y/n casts a non-verble, wandless spell that mimics a gust a powerful wind, ripping the binds off her hands and ankles. Remus flies onto his back, the lights flicker and burst. The windows and glass shatter. Papers fly. Hermoine screams, echoing amongst the shouts as Ron pulls her into his arms. Molly leaning over an injured George to protect him from shards.

Fluer gasps at the feeling of Y/n’s wand in her hand ripped from her. The death eater had snapped her fingers in the chaos with a non-verbal Accio.

With her wand now in her possession, Y/n unleashes another bout of wind, crippling the Order from attacking her. Once satisfied she makes her escape. Black smoke fills the room before flying out the window and into the night sky. The storm inside the burrow seizing.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron coughs, catching his breath.

“That,” Kingsley stands up straight, sore from colliding with the wall which knocked him down. “Was the closest thing to experiencing the Devil on Earth.”

Tags: @unloved-and-outspoken

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v4mpgutz · 5 months

Text

Peppers, Slytherin Boys [ DRABBLE ]

— the slytherin boys + band au. this will include theodore nott, mattheo riddle, lorenzo berkshire, draco malfoy, blaise zabini and tom riddle (bc i said so) also the bandname.. ur probably thinking "how original" /sar but i couldnt think of anything JENDN

slytherin boys band

warnings ! — a little bit suggestive in some parts (hehehaha), mentions of smoking/cigarettes, mentions of eye pulling

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

thinking about these boys starting a band together. they decide the positions will go as such: tom as lead guitarist + sub-vocals, mattheo on drums, theo as the bassist, draco on keyboard, enzo as main vocals and blaise as sub-guitarist.

they sit there in the common room, everyone bickering about who can come up with a better band name. tom sighs and pulls at his eyes with a groan. do they ever shut up?

draco scoffs and turns to tom, "alright then. think you've got a better name?"

tom blinks and gives him a blank look before saying, "uh yes. i've got plenty of better names actually." the boys look at him expectantly and suddenly tom is realising he has to give them a name suggestion, (spoiler alert: he actually had none.)

the usually quiet prefect clears his throat, "how about the deatheaters?" he asks. good, he thinks, that came out more certain than it did in my head.

mattheo raises his eyebrows in surprise and clicks his tongue. "damn, that's actually kind of sick. vote?" he glances around to see multiple grins and aggressive nodding from lorenzo (he gets excited easily.)

they practice for months, sometimes missing dinner and even breakfast just to get more acquainted with their positions and instruments. they finally convince dumbledore to let them play at a school dance — he's definitely slightly regretting it but he figures he can't take it back now.

theo swallows anxiously as he sees just how many students showed up to the dance and blaise sighs as he places a hand on the boy's shoulder. "chill, mate. we're going t' kill it out there."

"why are there so many people?!" theo attempts to whisper as he turns to his bandmates with wide-eyes. tom shrugs, draco shakes his head and continues reading over his music sheet, lorenzo chews his lip — just as nervous as theo... and mattheo? well...

"duh," the curly-haired boy gives a crooked smirk, cocky as ever. "they're here to see us — and by us i mean me."

tom smacks his brother in the shoulder and mattheo winces, rubbing it in a soothing manner. "i was kidding!"

dumbledore calls them onto the make-shift stage while the curtains are closed and mattheo throws his cigarette onto the floor, digging into it with his foot to put it out. blaise gags, "that's a disgustung habit."

mattheo shrugs and the band make their way onto the stage, taking their places. enzo up front, tom on his right and a little behind, mattheo at the back with his drumkit kind of floating in the air (magic perks), theo in the same place as tom but left, draco diagonally to mattheo's left and blaise just next to enzo.

lorenzo and tom clear their throats and take a sip from their water bottles before scrambling to peg them into the wings (accidentally hitting professor slughorn for which tom winces and apologises.) mattheo counts in with his sticks before starting in with a relatively quick beat, guitars being strummed and keyboard notes being played.

enzo's voice is a little deeper than usual and the crowd's reaction made it clear that they weren't expecting it. people from different houses looked up at the band, mesmorised.

mattheo had a grin on his face, his curls bouncing gently against his sweaty forehead as he hit the drums. blaise was focusing on the neck of his guitar, making sure not to mess up any notes, his skin so pretty under the gold stage light. tom couldn't care less about the audience but when his fingers moved quickly, so smooth against the strings of his guitar as he backed enzo's vocals and girls started screaming — it definitely boosted his ego a little. theo was more relaxed now, his eyes showing excitement as his stomach settled. draco blew strands of hair that fell out of his slicked back style away from his face, messing up a few chords but he was certain nobody noticed anyway.

when they finish up, the boys felt a rush of adrenaline and pride as everyone starts whistling and clapping.

they rush off the stage all giddy, smacking eachother on the back as they whoop and grin at eachother.

"whose idea was this again?" blaise asks, raising a brow.

tom shrugs with a sly smirk and hands a lighter to mattheo after he whines about needing a light for his cigarette. "no idea, but it was genius."

giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair hehehaha, definitely will be writing oneshots for each of them with this band au in the future theyre so hot

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rosemarycovet · 8 months

Text

characters I write for

twilight

Edward Cullen

Alice Cullen

emmet Cullen

Jasper Hale

Rosalie Hale

Bella Swan

SCREAM

(Mostly billy and Stu)

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Randy Meeks

Sidney Prescott

Tatum Riley

Dewey Riley

Mickey Altieri

Roman Bridger

Jill Robert

Ethan landry

Tara carpenter

Sam Carpenter

Chad meeks

Amber Freeman

gilmore girls

(chilton) Rory Gilmore

Dean Forester

Jess Mariano

Tristin Dugray

Dave Rygalski

Lane Kim

Finn Wolfhard characters

Mike wheeler

Boris pavlikovsky

Miles Fairchild

Richie Toizer

Harry potter/wizarding world

Theodore Nott

Mattheo Riddle

Tom Riddle

Draco Malfoy

Cedric Diggory

Harry potter

Ron Weasley

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

Violet Harmon

kit walker

Zoe Benson

Kyle Spencer

Madison Montgomery

Jimmy darling

James march

Euphoria

rue bennett

Jules vaughn

maddy perez

cassie howard

lexi howard

kat hernandez

Fezco

Elliot

Nate Jacobs

chris mckay

Scott pilgrim VS. The world

Scott pilgrim

Ramona Flower

wallace wells (x male reader)

Envy Adams

Knives Chau

Kim Pine

Random

Rodrick Heffely-Diary of a wimpy kid

Patrick bateman-American Pyscho

Jesse Pinkman-Breaking bad

Peeta Mellark-hunger games

Finnick Odair-hunger games

Nanno-Girl from no where

Danny Jenner-Jeepers Creepers

Kat Stratford-10tihay

Patrick Verona-10tihay

Cameron James-10tihay

Dave Lizewski-Kick ass

Charlie-the perks of being a wallflower

jennifer check- jennifer’s body

Tim LaFlour-senseless

Robin Buckley-stranger things

glen glantz-nightmare on elm street

Request are open

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pinkykats-place · 2 years

Text

Slytherin Character x Hufflepuff Reader

Tumblr Fanfic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Readers are paired w/ Slytherin characters.

Mostly female readers. Art not mine.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please like, comment and/or reblog their work!

Sly Slytherin

Blaise Zabini x puff!Reader

Summary: According to Fred and George, a certain Slytherin keeps on giving you weird looks.

The Slytherin Smiles

Blaise Zabini x female!puff!Reader

studying.

pansy parkinson x female!puff!Reader

My Tutor

Tom Riddle x female!puff!Reader

Summary: Reader is at risk of failing her potions class, and she has to ace her next test in order to pass the class. She thinks that getting a perfect score on her next test is impossible, but when a certain dark-haired Slytherin offers his aid, she finds hope.

What she doesn't know is that Tom Riddle is not helping her because he wants her to pass the class. He is helping her because he has been looking for an opportunity to seduce her for months.

And when he finds it, he takes it.

love is sour grapes

theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

Synopsis: “Uhm— would you like to—"

He turned to me calmly, the rest of his appearance devoid of emotions.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing.

Dance with me

Theo Nott x female!puff!Reader

Summary: At Theodore Nott’s annual birthday ball the two of you take a liking to each other.

His Hufflepuff

Theodore Nott x female!puff!Reader

Summary: You were known as the sweetest Hufflepuff at Hogwarts, from tutoring students to being Madam Pomfrey's helper, you were constantly busy you liked it that way... Theodore Nott - The Slytherin Prefect, you had caught his attention, and everyone knows Theodore Nott never gives up on something or someone he wants.

yellow matches green

Theo Nott x female!hufflepuff!Reader

summary: Theodore Nott gets insecure over everyone disliking him and readers relationship because it’s a hufflepuff and a slytherin relationship. He doesn’t think of himself as enough but hufflepuff here wants to show him his worth.

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ephemerasnape · 7 months

Text

Tom Seduces You (Audio)

More like... Tom Riddle commands you to serve him. (Hogwarts Era)

Tom Riddle x Female! Listener

NSFW AUDIO

Not explicit but potentially embarrassing.

I can do more if there's an audience for it...

#tom riddle #female reader #x you #you #reader #listener #female listener #voldemort #audio #ai audio

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viennalingers · 4 months

Text

masterlist

HARRY POTTER:

cedric diggor:

nothing yet..

fred wesley:

nothing yet..

george wesley:

nothing yet

slythrin boys:

draco malfoy:

nothing yet..

blasie ( can’t spell his last name):

nothing yet..

theo not:

nothing yet..

tom riddle:

nothing yet..

mattheo riddle:

nothing yet..

you(tv show):

joe Goldberg:

nothing yet..

maraders:

james potter:

nothing yet.

remus lupin:

regulas black:

nothing yet..

sirius black:

nothing yet..

lily evan’s:

nothing yet..

celebrity:

cameron monaghan:

penn badgely:

nothing yet..

tom blyth:

nothing yet..

andrew garfield:

nothing yet..

adam driver:

nothing yet..

cillian murthy:

nothing yet..

mads mikkelsen:

nothing yet..

jacob elorid:

nothing yet..

request over celebritys

only do fem reader reader has no specific look

request page:

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 5 months

Text

(Dark!) Scenario: Marriage

Pairing: Dark Tom Riddle x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SCENARIO: How marrying Tom would go.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship.

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

You don’t know if you’ll get a job, if you’ll ever regret your career path, if you’ll move out or stay with your parents.

In short terms, you don’t know anything. The future is completely and purely uncertain.

But one thing is crystal clear though: you’re gonna be Tom’s wife, there isn’t a single doubt about that.

Although technically you’re already his, Tom has a strange obsession with binding you in the most sacred relation there is, despite having no actual respect for it.

The last year at Hogwarts is…enlightening, to say the least. Tom never fully discloses his plans, you already knew that, but he did share small but frightening pieces of information.

During all the years that you’ve known Tom, he’s been power hungry, his brilliant mind preparing for when he finally leaves school and you know it’s not peace-seeking type of plans.

Rather the opposite.

And it scares you to death. You don’t want to be a part of it, of any of his deranged plans to conquer immortality and power. While he was a teenager, it was easy to ignore his delusions but now?

Soon Tom will be able to do whatever he wants and it’s clear that he fully intends on making his plans come true with a steel determination.

It made you uncomfortable and uneasy, straining the already poor relationship you had with Tom. But none of your attempts to distance yourself from him were successful. Tom would never let you out of your leash, would he?

Willingly or unwillingly, you’ll always have to come back to him.

As soon as you graduate from Hogwarts, Tom won’t waste any time marrying you. It would be a very private ceremony as you and Tom hold hands, dressed in black attires.

None of your family was invited, Tom didn’t even dignify informing them about the wedding. You're surrounded by his fellow Death Eaters, who serve as witnesses for the promises of Unbreakable Vow that Tom has you doing.

Obedience. Submission. Devotion.

You’re less of a wife and more like a slave when the ceremony finally ends.

Committed to a man that you fear.

Bound in a way that only death can put an end to it.

And that’s what you pray for.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere tom riddle #dark tom riddle #yandere tom riddle x reader #dark tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #imagine tom riddle #tom riddle x female reader #yandere x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle #yandere harry potter x reader #yandere scenarios #tw: yandere #tw.dark content #tw: toxic relationships #tw.manipulation

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myhyperfixatedmess · 10 months

Text

Serpentine.

Tom is certain of many things, including the fact that he absolutely hates your guts.

Word count: 2.4k

Content warning: None that I'm aware of.

[This is my first time ever writing anything like this so I apologize if it's not very good, also Tom might be a bit ooc. I'm not entirely sure.]

Tom seethed with anger as his gaze fixated on you. The mere sight of you sent a surge of resentment coursing through his veins. Among his classmates, you were hailed as the epitome of perfection, and that only fueled his disdain. He detested the carefree way you danced, as if the world around you didn't matter, oblivious to anyone who dared to watch. Your smile, so radiant and seemingly untainted by pain, infuriated him. It was a constant reminder of his own hidden struggles. The way you effortlessly attracted attention, drawing others toward you like moths to a flame, further fueled his animosity. But what he despised the most was how effortlessly you had captured his attention, enough to evoke such intense hatred. The fact that he found himself fixating on you, scrutinizing every aspect he found insufferable, was a constant source of frustration.

Lost in his bitter thoughts, Tom was abruptly interrupted by Malfoy's voice, snapping him back to reality. Confused by the sudden attention, Tom's narrowed eyes shifted towards his classmates, who stared at him inquisitively. Avery, his mouth full, pointed in your direction, making it clear that Tom had been gazing at you for an uncomfortably long time. Annoyed with himself for being so distracted, Tom dismissed their concerns with a curt response, willing them to remain silent. The skeptical glances exchanged by his peers, however, indicated their doubt in his dismissive words.

Tom's loathing for you only grew stronger, especially as he observed you in the common room. Your infectious laughter, the soft waves of your hair framing your face, it all served as a constant reminder of his unwanted attraction. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he averted his gaze, disgusted with how easily you managed to capture his attention time and time again. Determined to ignore you, he resolved to focus solely on his ambitions, leaving you to your own devices. But even as he made this resolution, he couldn't resist stealing another glimpse in your direction.

Fate had a cruel sense of humor, as Tom found himself in your presence once more during Potions class. Professor Slughorn, in a particularly peculiar moment, decided to pair Tom and you together for an assignment. Suppressing his distaste, Tom watched with growing irritation as you approached him, wearing an infuriating smile and settling down beside him.

As you organized your materials, Tom yearned for the opportunity to work on the potion alone. It wasn't that he thought you incapable—quite the opposite. He was well aware of your exceptional brilliance, and that knowledge only fueled his resentment towards you. Handing him some ingredients with that same disarming smile, you provoked another surge of animosity within him. Tom wasn't foolish; he recognized that his hatred may have been unfounded. He was even mindful enough to admit that maybe he was unjust in his loathing. Yet, as you absentmindedly brushed against him, his anger intensified, the burning in his chest escalating to a blazing inferno. He stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge your presence, while inwardly seething.

Your gentleness was like salt on an open wound, an unwelcome contrast to his own inner turmoil. He couldn't stand the kind smiles you directed his way or the softness in your voice when you spoke to him. Unsure if you treated everyone with such tenderness, Tom hated every ounce of it.

And even now, as he silently directed daggers towards the side of your head, you remained unaffected. That ever-present smile adorned your face as you attentively listened to the professor. Perhaps you hadn't noticed his seething resentment, or maybe you simply didn't care.

Tom truly despised you.

Despite Tom's best efforts to bury his loathing and distance himself from you, fate seemed determined to test his resolve. The universe conspired to place you in his path, unrelenting in its mission to fuel his inner turmoil.

Days turned into weeks, and Tom found himself encountering you more frequently than he would have preferred. Your presence in the corridors, the library, and even in the Great Hall became impossible to ignore. Each time, his resentment swelled, festering like a wound that refused to heal.

It was during Defense Against the Dark Arts class that a peculiar incident occurred. The professor, caught up in an animated discussion with another student, accidentally assigned you as Tom's partner for a practical exercise. Tom's heart sank as the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. This forced collaboration would inevitably tear down the walls he had so meticulously built around his feelings.

Reluctantly, you approached him, that ever-present smile adorning your face as if it were a permanent fixture. Tom's blood boiled beneath his calm facade, his grip on his wand tightening as you settled in beside him. The instructions were given, and as you prepared for the exercise, you turned to him with genuine warmth in your eyes.

"I believe we can work well together, Tom," you said, your voice soft and encouraging. "Let's make the most of this opportunity."

Your words were meant to foster cooperation, but to Tom, they were like nails on a chalkboard. He wasn't fond of your unrelenting insistence to call everyone, even him, by their first name. He detested the way you effortlessly extended an olive branch, offering a glimpse of the goodness that resided within you. His own walls, built on bitterness and resentment, grew higher in response.

As the exercise progressed, you displayed a remarkable talent and unwavering focus. Your skills complemented Tom's own abilities, leading to a seamless collaboration that drew the professor's attention. You seemed unfazed by Tom's icy demeanor, treating him with a kindness he felt he did not deserve.

But beneath his icy exterior, Tom's emotions churned like a tempestuous sea. He couldn't comprehend why you insisted on being pleasant, even as he pushed you away with his cold indifference. It was maddening to witness your genuine care and empathy, qualities he struggled to understand, let alone reciprocate.

As the days went on, a part of Tom's hardened facade began to crack. He found himself observing you from a distance, catching glimpses of your interactions with others. Your infectious laughter, the way you lent a helping hand without hesitation, and the ease with which you forged connections—these traits only deepened his confusion and resentment.

Tom loathed the fact that you evoked a sense of admiration within him, despite his best efforts to resist. He hated how your mere presence had the power to make him question his own beliefs, to reevaluate the walls he had erected around his heart. And most of all, he despised how your kindness seemed to seep into the depths of his soul, stirring emotions he had long buried.

But as he watched you navigate through the complexities of life with grace and compassion, a whisper of doubt began to emerge within him. Could it be possible that his hatred stemmed from envy? Envy for the light that radiated from you effortlessly, while darkness consumed him from within.

As the war between his loathing and burgeoning curiosity raged on, Tom found himself at a crossroads. Would he succumb to the bitterness that had become his shield, or would he dare to explore the mysteries that lay beneath the surface?

Tom wasn't sure, he wasn't sure whether to embrace the light that threatened to illuminate his shadows or to retreat further into the darkness he had come to know so well.

In the midst of another Potions class, you took your usual seat next to Tom. As you settled in, Tom did his best to ignore your presence, casting only a fleeting glance in your direction to acknowledge your arrival.

During a break from Professor Slughorn's lecture, you turned towards Tom, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke.

"Hey, can you fill me in on what Professor said about the effects of Boomslang skin on a potion? I seem to have missed that part," you asked, your eyes fixed on his. Tom felt a sudden stiffness in his body, his mouth drying up as he struggled to maintain his composure. Though he yearned to brush you off and but he couldn't risk his carefully constructed reputation, he knew he couldn't afford to dismiss you so callously.

Resolute in upholding his image as a model student, Tom nodded and glanced back at his own notes.

"Here," he offered, sliding his notes towards you and pointing out the relevant paragraph with his quill. A genuine smile spread across your face as you expressed your gratitude, causing a flutter of unfamiliar emotions within Tom. He simply nodded in response and watched as you diligently copied the information onto your own parchment.

Tom couldn't understand why it was becoming increasingly challenging to maintain his hatred for you. He had built a part of his identity around loathing your very existence—your face, your smile, your gentle voice. Yet, the more he focused on you, the harder it became to justify his animosity.

A growing sense of unease settled within him. Something was undeniably wrong.

The week marched on and everything turned into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions for Tom. He found himself stealing glances at you when he believed no one was looking, analyzing the subtle curves of your face and the way your eyes lit up when engaged in conversation. Your infectious laughter echoed in his ears, tugging at a corner of his heart that he had kept hidden for far too long.

Tom wrestled with his feelings, torn between the comfortable familiarity of hatred and the unsettling allure of something new. His internal battle consumed him, tormenting his every thought. What was happening to him? How could a person he had once despised stir such conflicting emotions within him?

In the stillness of his thoughts, doubt wove its tendrils through Tom's mind, tightening like a constricting snake, threatening to suffocate him with its conflicting presence.

Unknown emotions swirled within him, a turbulent mix that challenged the very core of his being. The source of this upheaval? You.

For so long, Tom had reveled in his hatred for you, finding solace in the darkness it provided. But now, the lines blurred, and he found himself teetering on the precipice of something new and terrifying. A part of him yearned to embrace these unfamiliar sentiments, to explore the depths of his own vulnerabilities. Yet, another part clung desperately to the comfort of loathing, fearing the uncertainty that lay ahead.

You had become an enigma he couldn't decipher—a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into his predetermined narrative. Your presence, once a thorn in his side, now had the power to ignite a spark within him, casting doubt on the foundations of his carefully constructed persona.

With every stolen glance, every accidental brush of skin, his walls crumbled, exposing the rawness beneath. The once unyielding armor of hatred cracked under the weight of conflicting desires and buried longing.

It infuriated him. It terrified him.

He despised how you had effortlessly breached his defenses, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. It was as if you had unlocked a hidden chamber in his soul, releasing emotions he had long suppressed. He resented the power you held over him, the way you unsettled his carefully controlled existence.

Yet, even as Tom fought against these unfamiliar emotions, a small voice within him whispered of the possibilities that lay in embracing them.

He tried to bury the voice, banishing it from the recesses of his mind. It continued to whisper, he realized it wouldn't stop. Instead, it only grew louder, stronger. It demanded his surrender, his compliance, his acceptance.

As the tumultuous emotions surged within Tom, it felt as though he was losing control. The certainty he once held crumbled, leaving behind a profound sense of confusion. Like a question without an answer, he found himself adrift in a sea of uncertainty, searching for a guiding light that seemed elusive.

You were the catalyst for this internal chaos, the one who had unraveled the tightly woven threads of his convictions. Tom couldn't comprehend how you had managed to dismantle the carefully constructed fortress he had built around his heart. Your presence, once a source of loathing, now became the source of his bewilderment.

He felt lost—lost in the labyrinth of his own emotions, stumbling through the maze of conflicting desires. The hatred that had consumed him for so long had morphed into something else entirely. It gnawed at his insides, urging him to reconsider his preconceived notions and venture into uncharted territory.

It frustrated him to no end. He was accustomed to being in control, to understanding the intricacies of his own mind. But now, he stood at the precipice of the unknown, grappling with a myriad of feelings that defied explanation.

Tom yearned for clarity, for a resolute path to follow. He longed for the comfort of familiarity, for the ease of hatred that had shielded him from vulnerability. But with each passing day, that certainty slipped further from his grasp, leaving him teetering on the edge of an abyss.

And in the midst of his confusion, he couldn't help but place the blame on you. You had become the embodiment of his turmoil, the reason behind his internal disarray. The very thought of you filled him with equal parts fascination and trepidation.

Tom knew that something had to be done. He couldn't linger in this limbo forever. It was time to confront the chaos within, to find the answers that eluded him.

He took a deep breath, ready to face the enigma that was you, ready to delve into depths of his own soul. He had come to accept that what he was about to do, would likely change the plan he had so meticulously crafted for years. However, he knew something had to be done, before he went properly mad.

Tom needed answers, and the only person who would be able to provide them, was you.

Pt.2

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