Apsara

She/अपसरा, writer, dancer, college student

[ramayantika]

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Samridhi, समृधि, desiblr ki अपसरा 🎀💖

College student, dancer, writer

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#samridhi writes: for all my writings here

#dro sam: for the Desi Romance stories/oneshots

#samridhi speaks: for all my rants and shitposting

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Tumblr writings here

-> Desi Romance

-> Krishna fics

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● Rehman Baloch ●

● Uzair Baloch ●

[ramayantika]

I got a lavender white corset top and God my posture straightened lol

[affectioncas]

STARRY EYES | theodore nott

word count: 3,829

summary: yearner theo shoots his shot… will he ball or will he flop?

author's note: thank u so much @puddlesoffrogs for the request i hope i did it justice! y’all let me know if you want a part two ;) i have some good ideas for it buttt would need to flesh it out a bit so just lmk if it’s something u would want to see!

🌷 masterlist

Ever since you watched Pansy Parkinson launch herself at Draco Malfoy for calling you a mudblood during your first year of Hogwarts, you’ve attached yourself to her hip. She didn’t exactly want you around at first, because being a friend of yours made her a target. But soon enough, you had unknowingly charmed Pansy with your sweet, almost innocent personality, and she quickly grew quite fond of you.

Pansy had never been the type of girl to not speak her mind. This was something that you realized within seconds of meeting her. Even in the most awkward or emotionally charged situations, she never held back her true feelings or thoughts. You looked up to her and thought of her as your own older sister. Of course, that came with her teasing you nonstop, although always from a place of love.

You like to think that you balance her out, even now, six years later with her in her final year of school and you one year behind. Pansy talks, and you listen. That’s how it has always been. You can’t even imagine what your last year of school will look like without your best friend by your side.

“He’s always annoying me, trying to ‘demand’ I go out with him or something.” You and Pansy are currently sprawled across her bed, legs dangling off the side with your head laid on her stomach. Your head moves slightly with each of her words, and you should find it annoying, but there’s something comforting about the physical closeness.

“Do you have to talk with your mouth full?” You ask with a tone of faux irritation, laughing when Pansy tugs on your ear. “You know Draco has liked you since forever, Pans.” She scoffs, continuing to munch away on muffins that she had somehow snuck in. “His ego is way too big. And plus, he was such an asshole to you.”

You prop yourself up with your elbow, watching Pansy with soft eyes. “That was six years ago. I let it go a long time ago. He’s changed.”

“That’s because you are way too forgiving, babes.” Pansy scoffs, her eyes narrowing just at the thought of Draco being mean to you, even though he was obviously just a young boy going through a lot of shit. It’s not like you forgave him easily, though. He spent the entirety of fourth and fifth year trying to make it up to you. “Plus, you know about me and Hermione.”

“Ah, yes, your secret relationship,” you muse, a teasing smile on your face. “I’m kinda the only one who knows. You can’t blame Draco for shooting his shot, well, at least once a day.” You giggle when Pansy makes a disgusted face. Her teeth are stained brown from the chocolate muffins, and there are crumbs across the lower half of her face, but she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I love you,” Pansy sighs, mimicking your pose to be eye level with you. “I’m not ready to graduate. I can’t leave you,” she whines, shoving your shoulder as if it’s your fault you’re a year younger than her.

“Don’t remind me,” you answer sadly, your smile drooping into a sadder one. The weight of her graduation remains heavy on your shoulders. It physically hurts to think about your life without Pansy constantly talking your ear off about the 30 different things that have managed to annoy her in the span of a day.

“Actually, that reminds me,” Pansy says suddenly, her eyes lighting up at whatever prospect just appeared in her mind. “Blaise told me the group is getting together tonight. You know, to celebrate graduation.”

You snicker softly, shaking your head in disbelief. “You guys do realize that you’re graduating in a few months, right? You’re celebrating a little too early.”

“Oh, but you know Enzo. He never misses a chance to liven up the common room a bit.” You groan, letting yourself fall back onto Pansy’s bed, staring at the canopy above.

It’s as if she can sense your discomfort. She pokes your cheek, pouting slightly at your lack of enthusiasm. “Come on, you’ll come. For me? It’s only one night.”

You grimace, already mentally preparing yourself to sit there quietly for the entire night. “Shouldn’t I be hanging out with people my own age?” you ask quietly, as a last ditch effort to try and get her off your back.

Pansy pinches your cheek instead of poking it. “Oh, shut it. We’re one year older, for Merlin’s sake. And they’re your friends too.”

“Barely,” you grumble, but you know that there isn’t any way in hell you’d make Pansy upset over something so avoidable. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“I think it’s time to just give it up.” Theodore receives a pillow to the face at that comment. “Ow- what the hell was that for?”

“You are a such a fucking pussy,” Mattheo drawls. Normally, that wouldn’t have pissed Theodore off, but the sight of Blaise snickering on his bed while he pretends to read a book ticks him off.

“And you’re annoying,” Theodore spits out, shoving Mattheo to the side so he has space to lay on his own bed. Out of sheer habit, he opens the drawer of his bedside table, taking out a cigarette. He fumbles for his lighter, but Mattheo snatches it out of his hand.

Theodore glares. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Save that for tonight, loverboy,” Mattheo muses, laughing as Theodore seemingly tries to kill him with just his gaze. “Come on, why give up now? It’s been two years of you doing literally nothing at all, for Merlin’s sake. Now’s the perfect time.”

“We’re graduating in three months.” Theodore grabs the pillow next to him and uses it to cover his face. He wants to scream into it, to let out the pain and discomfort that’s been tearing his heart apart ever since he decided he had to have you one way or another. “What’s even the point?” Mattheo grabs the pillow from his grasp, tossing it onto the floor. “It’s not like you’re moving half way across the world. You’ll be in London. You can still visit her. A lot.” Theodore says nothing; he simply stares blankly at the ceiling, his arms falling beside him.

“Come on, Blaise. Back me up,” Mattheo calls out.

Blaise doesn’t even look up from his book as he responds. “I dunno, mate. It’s not like Theo has the balls to make a move.”

That comment makes Theodore scoff. “If you guys are trying to ragebait me into doing something, it’s not going to work.” Despite his words, he can feel his fingers twitching by his side, itching for the sweet relief of nicotine to relax the pressure of needing to do something, to at least tell you how he feels, to at least make it known to someone other than his best mates that he fell in love with you over the course of six years.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Pansy, are you?” Mattheo asks.

“No, Merlin knows I’m not.” That could be a small lie. It’s awfully hard to approach you when you have somewhat of a guard dog beside you at all times.

“But okay, tell me this.” Theodore gets off his bed, beginning to pace the room, hands in his hair as he tries to calm himself down. “Has anyone other than Pansy fucking Parkinson ever had a conversation with her that has lasted more than a few minutes? No? That’s what I thought.”

“Can you stop fucking pacing, mate? It’s distracting.” Blaise tosses his book at Theodore, and it hits his side, but he doesn’t even react. He’s too busy trying not to hex himself into his next life so he doesn’t have to stress about this anymore.

“I’m being serious. How am I supposed to get her to like me, or even acknowledge me, if I can’t even talk to her. How?”

“Oi.” Mattheo’s voice snaps him back to reality, and Theodore whirls around to face him, his hands finally dropping to his side. “You need to relax, Theo. Like seriously.” Theodore groans, his head falling into his hands. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Listen,” Blaise starts. “Pansy told me she’s forcing her to come hang out with us tonight. When Pansy’s being her usual loud and annoying self, just make your move then. Your girl is always quiet, off to the side. Who knows? She might enjoy someone other than Pansy talking to her.”

Theodore’s eyes widen. Mattheo whistles, patting Blaise on the back. “Yo. Good shit, mate.” 

Blaise shrugs like it’s nothing. “How do you think I got Luna to fall for me, you assholes?” 

Theodore snickers. “We still don’t know to this day, mate.”

You wince as Pansy practically attacks you when you walk down the stairs to the common room, your hands immediately finding her arms to stabilize both her and yourself.

“You reek of cigarettes, you know that?” Pansy returns your comment with a simple eyeroll, grabbing your hand to drag you toward the couches by the fireplace.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Mattheo drawls, a smirk adorning his face as you stand (hide) behind Pansy, giving everyone a small smile and a quick wave.

“Oh shut it and leave her alone, Riddle,” Pansy retorts, returning to her original seat on a couch closest to the fire. Naturally, you slide in next to her, Draco to your right with Pansy to your left. Lorenzo, Theodore, and Mattheo sit on the couch opposite of you, with Blaise situated on the floor with his back to the fire.

You shift uncomfortably; everyone seems to be looking at you, for some reason. You look to Pansy for help, and of course, ever your savior, she launches back into whatever conversation they were previously having. Something about Professor Snape being especially broody lately.

The night passes quickly for most, but slowly for you. You spend most of the time laying your head on Pansy’s shoulder, smiling softly at Enzo’s random jokes and Draco’s flirtatious comments. When the joint gets passed around to you, you find yourself actually accepting it, laughing when Draco raises his eyebrow.

Eventually, the conversation naturally drifts into smaller groups. Pansy gets distracted arguing with Mattheo and Blaise over something ridiculous. Draco and Enzo are huddled to the side, their whispers looking more like gossip as their bodies shake with hidden laughter. You have the couch all to yourself now, your head leaned to rest on the back, your hands fidgeting in your lap as you admire the ceiling. You’re so relaxed to the point where you can feel your body dip lower and lower into the couch, inch by inch.

You can actually feel yourself drifting off before the spot next to you on the couch dips. “Pans.” Her name automatically rolls off your tongue, your eyes fluttering open. “I’m so hungry. Like, I would kill someone for a milkshake right now.”

“Well, I hope I’m not your victim of choice, then.” You gasp, immediately moving your head up and to the side.

“Oh,” you whisper breathlessly, stupidly, your eyes wide as you realize you’re face to face with none other than Theodore Nott, a man you’ve exchanged maybe a total of 20 words with over the span of six years.

He stifles a laugh, and you feel like letting the ground swallow you whole. “Sorry,” you manage to squeak out, your gaze falling down to your hands in your lap.

“Don’t be,” Theodore murmurs, and his voice is smooth and almost velvety, so unlike anything you’ve ever heard him sound like before. It’s such a stark difference to the way he’ll banter with Mattheo or insult Draco. You’re surprised he even has the ability to sound so… friendly.

“I know a way to get you that milkshake without committing any acts of murder, if you’re interested,” he muses, trying to hide his smirk behind his hand but absolutely failing.

You can feel your face flush with embarrassment, yet you will yourself to look up at him. “I… um.” You hesitate, but all of a sudden it’s like Pansy has infiltrated your mind, her voice screaming at you to branch out, to be more open. Plus, you are really hungry anyway, so what’s the worst that could happen?

You steel your nerves, sitting up straighter as if your posture will somehow provide you with more courage. “I’m interested.”

Theodore smiles and you swear you can feel your heart fall out of your chest. He cocks his head towards the exit, as if beckoning you to follow him. “Don’t be too obvious, or I’ll never hear the end of it from your girlfriend.”

You giggle, glancing towards Pansy quickly, and once you see she’s still engrossed in her argument, you stand up along with him. What you miss as the two of you walk out is the glance Theodore throws behind him right before he leaves the room. Mattheo smirks, and Theodore returns the look. Smooth.

“So, what is this bright idea of yours?” you mutter, glancing around the corridors as the two of you walk side by side. You, oddly enough, are a bit scared of getting caught out after curfew; you’re usually not. Although the feeling of nervousness could also possibly be attributed to the terrifyingly charming boy walking next to you.

Theodore slides his hands into his pockets, a calm look on his face despite the raging onslaught of emotions he’s currently experiencing. “House-elves owe me a favor.”

You raise an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by his answer. “Do tell.”

Theodore laughs, following you down the stairs to the kitchens. “Some things are best left unsaid, darling.”

Your insides flood with warmth. You’re eternally grateful that Theodore can’t see the blush that has most definitely bloomed on your face.

He takes your silence as rejection and quickly backtracks. “I-I’m sorry. That was way out of line.”

“No,” you start quietly, looking at him once the two of you reach the bottom of the stairs. “It’s… it’s fine.” You don’t elaborate, quickly walking to the painting of a bowl of fruit. “Just tickle the damn thing. I’m hungry.”

Theodore snorts. “Didn’t realize you were so bossy.”

“Usually not,” you admit, watching as Theodore gets out his wand to perform the spell. You’ve not only surprised Theodore with your behavior, but also yourself; it’s true that you aren’t usually this open around new people. You assume it has something to do with the joint you accepted from Draco. How fitting.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you whisper as Theodore shuts the painting door behind you, glancing around the kitchens to see only a few house elves still cleaning up the place.

“Don’t worry, principessa. I wouldn’t take you here unless I knew for certain it would be alright.” You turn behind you to witness Theodore giving you a reassuring grin, and you return it with a shy smile and a brief glance. He thinks he could die right now and remain happy for eternity.

You lean against the wall, simply watching as Theodore squats down to murmur something in a house elf’s ear. Five minutes later, you’re sipping on a strawberry milkshake, roaming the halls back toward the common room.

“Thanks a lot. For this.” You gesture towards the milkshake, laughing when Theodore tries to wave it off.

“It’s no big deal,” he replies, and his tone is filled with such warmth that you can feel pooling in your stomach.

“So, what’s your favorite class this year?” Theodore asks, watching you sip happily. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to start a conversation, and you find it mildly entertaining that this is your first time getting to know him after six entire years.

“Probably Care of Magical Creatures.” You see Theodore’s eyebrow raise in the corner of your eye. “Don’t start,” you warn. “That class isn’t only reserved for Hufflepuffs, you know.”

Theodore raises his hands in mock surrender. “You really are feisty.” You shake your head to try and hide the smile on your face. “What’s your favorite creature, then?”

“Definitely kneazles. They remind me of my cat back home.” You raise a hand to your mouth, eyes widening as you realize you are willingly sharing personal information about yourself to someone other than Pansy. You curse under your breath; you’re not sure what to do with yourself. You’ve never acted this way around new people before. You haven’t even acted like this around people you’ve known forever.

You glance towards Theodore, expecting him to mock or tease you like anyone else would after finding out your favorite class is coddling creatures. Your heart climbs into your throat when you turn your head to find him looking at you with eyes full of curiosity and genuine intrigue.

“I, uh…” you start, trailing off as you try and think of what to say. “I have a tabby back home. I’m not sure if you’re familiar?”

Theodore nods thoughtfully. “They have stripes, right? With a sort of ‘M’ shape on their forehead?”

“Uh, yeah,” you respond a bit too breathlessly for your liking. You clear your throat, quickly turning away to take another sip of your milkshake to try and distract yourself from the fact that you are walking around, alone, with a terribly handsome and attentive man. You don’t know how you only now started to realize this fact.

Theodore laughs at your reaction, and you melt. “It can’t be that funny,” you murmur, huffing as you look away.

“It’s only mildly amusing,” he teases, and you realize you need the conversation to turn away from this sort of banter or you might actually faint.

Thankfully, Theodore seems to read your mind. “I noticed you reading in the common room the other day.” He says it so nonchalantly, like it means nothing, like you shouldn’t read into it. So you don’t. But you can’t stop your traitorous heart from doing a flip in your chest. “What book?”

“It’s just some stupid muggle book,” you murmur, tugging on your sleeve almost anxiously.

It’s like Theodore can read you perfectly. “You don’t need to be shy. I’m not going to judge you. I might even take your recommendation.” He smiles at you, and you can’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, and how his lips are slightly chapped, and how his hair is perfectly tousled, and–

You clear your throat once again. “Have you heard of The Kite Runner?” Theodore shakes his head as a no. “It’s a historical fiction novel. It’s the only book that’s ever made me cry,” you admit, and once again, you’re surprised at yourself for even bringing it up. 

“Well then, it seems like I’ll have to check it out,” Theodore muses, and you return his smile.

The two of you talk and talk until you end up reaching the entrance to the common room. You find yourself actually feeling a bit disappointed as the two of you reach the dungeons. It amazes you that you’ve been talking to someone other than Pansy for more than 30 minutes. It’s so easy to talk to Theodore because he’s actually listening.

You are honestly and truly scared of your treacherous heart, for the way it stops when he looks at you, or the way it beats faster when he teases you. You’re not sure how you’ve managed to ignore this man’s existence for six whole years. It feels like you’ve wasted them all.

You turn around once you reach the entrance to the common room, surprised when Theodore doesn’t follow. “You okay?” you ask softly, letting your hand drift from the stone wall. He says nothing while looking at you, deep in thought. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, and you swallow heavily.

“I’m not quite sure how to say this, but I…” Theodore trails off, looking nervous for the first time since you’ve known him. He looks almost cute, yet you immediately dismiss the thought.

“I’m interested in you.” Your mouth falls open. You almost drop your milkshake glass. “And I have been for… a long time now.”

You say nothing. You are physically incapable of movement. Your mind is screaming at your body to do something, to say something, anything. With a wand to your head, you probably still wouldn’t be able to even twitch a muscle.

“If you want, I’d like it if we could keep walking around. And talking.” Theodore reaches his hand out slowly, giving you time to pull away, and grabs your wrist softly when you don’t. Your breath hitches as he makes contact with you, and you’re so overwhelmed and confused and flattered that you can’t even think. Your vision swims. His thumb traces circles onto your skin and the sensation is akin to fire spreading across your body.

“There’s no way you like me,” you reply dumbly, eyes wide open as you gaze up at him. He looks so unguarded, so vulnerable, that it makes you want to do the same.

“There actually are many ways, and I’m living them all,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting down towards your lips before moving back up.

“I–” You’re interrupted by the sound of stone shifting behind you. You immediately yank your hand out of Theodore’s grasp, and you only briefly witness the hurt look on his face before you turn around.

“Pansy?” You say in disbelief, mouth falling open now for a completely different reason as she collapses onto you.

“I was looking for you, babes!” Pansy looks at you before looking at Theodore by your side, her eyebrows furrowing. “You’re with… him? Just him?”

You try to hide your snicker as you shoot Theodore a look. He only smirks in response, shaking his head. “I, uh…” you raise your hand with the glass in it. “Milkshake,” you put simply.

“Ohhhkay then,” Pansy mumbles, grabbing your hand to drag you back inside. “C’mon, we’re playing truth or dare and you have to play with us. No excuses this time.”

Somehow, Theodore is able to masterfully act like nothing happened, playing the trivial game with ease. However, you know that there is no way in hell that you will be able to concentrate with Theodore sitting right in front of you, his words echoing in your head nonstop as you stare blankly into the distance.

You eventually find yourself risking a glance at Theodore across the circle. He’s already looking at you, and you hold back a giggle. You feel like a fucking fangirl when a nervous smile adorns his face, and for the first time, you find yourself uncontrollably smiling back. You’re acutely aware now of the fact that the rest of your sixth year will be forever changed by a boy who has, quite possibly, stolen a milkshake along with your heart.

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Hunger, for many things

Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary; Tom Riddle was born hungry, his stomach churning for food, his chest aching for comfort, his eyes burning for love. he grows up learning to stop asking for any of it. but he meets someone that gives it to him without having to be asked.

Tom angst, i have alot of feelings for Tom when he was young, he fascinates me. OOC Tom, maybe, who knows. Tom gets to enjoy comfort and food and gets spoiled.

Tom had grown up hungry.

Tom had grown up ravenously hungry, and alone, and without comfort.

He’d grown up without a mother, who died the day she gave birth to him, without a father—who ran the moment he could, without any care beyond feeding and changing him from the orphanage caretakers.

Once he was old enough to learn there was no point in asking for any sort’ve affection, he stopped. Stopped hanging onto skirts, or holding his arms up for a hug—because that’s what he saw other little boys do.

It was always the same; a shove, a glance, and neglect.

They only fed him because they were paid to do it, only housed him because they got money from the government per child. Tom grew up starving, for more than just food. Starving for affection, starving for comforts beyond his itchy thin bed, starving for anyone to look beyond his oddities and see a boy who still needed a guiding hand, even if he didn’t act like it.

Tom gave up on asking for affection when he was 6 and thrown into the basement for breaking a vase over Billy’s head. He hadn’t meant to do it, he just got so angry at Billy—who’d ripped up Tom’s book that he’d gotten for his birthday. The vase had moved on its own, Tom had repeated—over and over—begging for anyone to listen.

No one did, and Tom spent the night in the dark damp basement with the rats, who didn’t care about him either—and nibbled at his clothes and hair as he slept curled up in a corner near the boiler.

He stopped trying after that night. There was no point. There was no comfort in the halls of Wool's orphanage, no love for a devil child like him, as they called him.

Tom grew up cold, and alone. Many nights wondering if he wouldn’t wake up as the winter chill pierced the walls—the thin blanket Tom wrapped around himself not doing much. He wondered if it would be the end as bombs dropped from the sky and rattled London, sitting huddled in a shelter with so many others, his hair dusted grey from debris.

He feared it. Death. Because what if he died before getting to feel warmth? What if he died before feeling full? What if he died before ever lying in a warm comfortable bed? What if he died unknown, just another body in the piles that he was forced to help dig through.

He didn’t want to die.

 =

The first glimmer of hope, of a different life, a better one, came when a strange man came to the orphanage. Tom was on the defensive as always, fearing it to be another doctor to take him away from the orphanage and throw him into a cell to spend his days in a madhouse.

They’d tried it before, the caretakers, to have doctors come diagnose him with madness, it never worked. Tom knew how to act.

But this strange man said he was a professor, from a school for witches and wizards. Tom hadn’t believed him, not until the man set his closet on fire—with no lighter or even movement. Tom watched with wonder, his mood dimming as the man told him that stealing was prohibited at Hogwarts.

Tom didn’t steal. He took things from those who didn’t deserve it, took from those who were mean to him without reason. But he returned the items, scared he’d not be allowed to Hogwarts if he didn’t.

He needed to leave, to escape, to find a path to greatness.

And so, he went on his own to Diagon Alley—he didn’t need any hand-holding—feeling awe for the first time as he stepped into a world all his own. Everything on his list for school cost something however, so he crept into Gringotts, handing over his note from the headmaster of Hogwarts, allowing Tom to take a stipend from the Hogwarts fund vault to buy his wand, textbooks, cauldron, and new robes.

Well, new was being generous. Everything he bought had to be second-hand just so he could afford everything, though he stared longingly at the golden cauldron that sat inside the potions shop. He couldn’t get himself an owl, he couldn’t afford it and knew the orphanage wouldn’t let him keep it, nor could he get any other pet.

Tom stepped into the final shop, Olivander's Wand shop, he sneezed, dust falling over his face as a stray spell hit the shelves above him and made wand boxes and dust fly.

“Sorry!” a squeal came from ahead, and Tom squinted open his eyes to see a girl, who looked to be around his age, eyes wide as she held a wand—which was quickly taken back by Olivander(Tom could only assume that’s who he was.)

“Definitely not that one,” Olivander said quietly as the girl pouted. Tom sneezed again, and when he looked up—the girl was offering an apologetic smile and a handkerchief.

He narrowed his eyes at her, untrusting of such a…kind action, but when the girl does not give up, and he sneezes again, he takes the handkerchief and cleans his face. “thanks,” he mumbles, handing the soft square of fabric back to her.

The girl smiles brightly. “you’re welcome! You’re new to Hogwarts too, right?” she asked, striking up conversation all too easily and Tom shuffles on his feet, his eyes darting from side to side.

“Yes,” he strains out, unused to such…positive attention. This girl was magical, like him. she wasn’t going to think he was a devil, or strange, weird maybe, but not evil. She smiled at him, turning as Olivander handed her another wand and it was taken from her before she could even try it out.

Tom frowned—why did the old man keep taking wands from her? he thought before the girl seemed to know why he was frowning and spoke. “Wand chooses the wizard apparently,” she grumbled as Olivander went to find a different wand for her to try.

Tom let out a short hum, watching as the girl went through several wands before she took one that seemed to hum with her. She beamed, holding her new wand close. She grabbed her wallet, handing over 5 galleons and skipping out of the store—but not before wishing Tom luck.

He watched her leave the wand shop, she did not reunite with any parents, but continued down the angular street on her own. Tom turned back, meeting eyes with the strange old man named Olivander, who began the usual routine of matching new young wizards with their wands.

=

He meets the girl again on the train; she was alone, like him, pushing the trolley full of baggage and a cage of an owl through a solid brick archway—going right through. Tom’s eyes went wide, he double-checked to make sure no one saw that, and somehow, no one had.

Tom swallowed hard, looking down at his ticket. Platform 9 and 3/4ths, and he stood in front of the archway between the two platforms. Tom took a breath, taking his trolley and running forward towards the brick, clenching his eyes shut as he met the wall—and passed right through.

“Woah,” Tom murmured, looking behind him at the brick wall, and then back at the newly appeared platform, seeing all the wizarding families around, and the grand scarlet train; the Hogwarts Express.

He follows another families lead to have his luggage loaded onto the train, and hops on—walking down the train corridor alone until he finds a compartment, sitting alone for maybe only four minutes before the girl from the wand shop pops in, smiling.

“Hi! Uh, can I sit with you?” she asks, nervously, and Tom slowly nods, one of his new textbooks in his lap—watching the girl intently as she sits in front of him, smiling still.

They stare at each other for a long moment, before she speaks. “I'm (y/n), by the way,” She said, holding out her hand. Tom stares, before taking her hand, responding quietly.

“Tom, Tom Riddle,” he muttered.

(y/n) smiled, so unguarded and in such a way Tom had never been smiled at before…

That it made him uncomfortable.

=

(y/n) lingered even after they’d been sorted and the chaos of school made itself known, somehow she’d been sorted into Slytherin with him, even if—with her personality—she was more of a Hufflepuff, but as the weeks went on, Tom had a feeling stereotypes of each house didn’t ring true.

Gryffindors could be cruel to anyone of the Slytherin house; Slytherin house was quite cruel to anyone of ‘lesser blood’ as Tom had overheard while holding back a scream as fake trolls blood mixed with gravy dripped over his head and down his back.(he spent hours scrubbing the blood out of his 2nd hand robes, holding back tears.)

Hufflepuffs were fine, he barely interacted with them, and Ravenclaws were haughty—in the way Tom was, self-assured in their mind and hungry like him.

He liked the green, but perhaps he would’ve been better suited in blue.

And (y/n) lingered.

She smiled at him when he was sorted a little bit after her, sitting two spots down from her, she sat beside him in all their classes and sat beside him in the common room when he sat in the comforts of the giant plush chairs by the lake windows.

He didn’t talk much at the start. (y/n) did that for him, chattering away about how wonderful everything was, how cool magic was, how fun potions was and so much more. Tom stared over the edge of his book, still wearing his uniform even if everyone else had changed out into their casual wear.

Tom only had his orphanage uniform, and if his second-hand robes had caused some bullying, he could only imagine what his shoddy, all-grey-colored uniform would bring.

Impossibly, (y/n) noticed his lack of wardrobe, how his book bag(stolen from Billy) was straining to keep together even with all the repair charms Tom tried to cast on it—desperation pulling at his throat as the threads plucked apart by the hour and threatened to break completely with each book piled into it, and how starved he always seemed, hording anything and everything he could get his hands on and keep.

It was weeks before Christmas, during the chaos of holiday exams for the end of terms, when Tom’s bag broke at the strap and seam—his books and papers flying everywhere in the chaos of the hallway. Many didn’t notice; a lot just walked around him as Tom dropped to the ground and frantically tried to grab everything—yelping as his hand was stepped on.

He glared up, watching as a 4th-year Hufflepuff kept walking on, not even caring he’d stepped on a 1st year. A blur of someone joins him on the floor, and he turns his burning eyes to (y/n) as she sets her pout to his books and papers, helping him pick everything up, yelling at anyone that steps too close—and surprisingly everyone listens to the 11-year-old girl that isn’t very scary but is very loud.

She hands him his papers and carries his books to their next class, and does this for the next two classes until Slughorn takes pity and gives Tom an old but not bursting-at-the-seams bag to keep carrying his stuff.

“Thank you,” Tom grumbled beneath his breath to (y/n) as she carefully slides his papers into his bag, making sure nothing was crushed—he doesn’t know why she's being so detailed, but he knows this is genuine kindness. He doesn’t understand it, but he sees it.

(y/n) smiles—bright and wide.

He gets a new, not fancy, sturdy bookbag for Christmas, and he holds back the ache in his throat. His first Christmas gift, and its thoughtful. The bag is detailed, rich dark leather with dragon embroidery all over and its dorky and sweet and Tom hugs the book bag.

Its his, all his, his first gift, something meant for him with thought put into it, and Tom holds it close—his hair a mess, he woke up 10 minutes ago; he hadn’t expected anything for Christmas but some other first year had yelled across the room for him as the rest sat under the tree.

He had a present, and he loved it.

His eyes caught (y/n)’s, she smiled at him and he—for the first time—offered a wobbly smile back. She’d gotten him a gift, for no reason at all beyond childish kindness and too much money that one would know what to do with.

He sits with her at Christmas dinner, and they both talk for the first time since (y/n) had begun to hang around him.

=

By 4th year, they’re attached at the hip. (y/n) was an orphan like him, but she was half-blood, like him, but she’d ended up with wizarding relatives and a massive inheritance after her parents died from the black cat flu. She shared everything with him and he was…still getting used to it.

He stopped needing the Hogwarts stipend by the start of 2nd year, (y/n) was determined to take care of him for some reason, and Tom was nothing but hungry and greedy, thankful still, but greedy.

Even if most of the time—he had no clue how to respond to her generosity.

But he craved it, for the first time—since he was born—he was being fed. More than just the comfort of warm food, more than just a warm bed and thick bedding, more than just the warmth of magic.

No it was the comfort of another person, the warmth of her beside him, that he felt full for the first time.

=

He got sick in 3rd year, he didn’t have any vaccinations for any sickness, so he went down with a scarlet fever for weeks on end, delirious, feverish, and locked away in a private room to make sure it didn’t spread.

He caught it early on, a mere week after 3rd year started, probably got it from some kid at the orphanage and now Tom was miserable in a medical bed, unable to even focus on reading as classes went on and he was stuck in the damn hospital wing.

Tom coughed, harsh and rough, groaning as his throat burned with relentless pain, sluggishly reaching out to grab the numbing honey tea Madam Tegner had given him. It helped, as much as it could; he was just glad he was at school sick—where potions and spells kept him comfortable and the risk of him passing in the middle of the night wasn’t possible.

(y/n) was vaccinated and wore a mask to visit him every day, teaching him everything from their shared classes—she even took the same electives as him, minus care for creatures—he didn’t care for that.

Her hand in his was a welcome distraction as he listened to her read to him from their 3rd year DADA textbook, notes piling high on the beside table as he sniffles and breathes though the heat in his throat while (y/n) stubbornly makes him a cup of tea that her grandmother swore by was best for scarlet fever—or as the wizarding community called it, phoenix fever.

He understood the logic, he felt like he was going to burst into flames from his fever.

(y/n) doesn’t get sick, and she takes care of him every day.

He saves her some tiramisu, her favorite—yet rare—dessert that only appears once a month when a particular house elf felt especially happy. Everyone always devoured it too quick for (y/n) to get a slice, leading to pouting lips and heavy tears that made Tom feel out of balance.

She hugs him, and Tom cannot explain the warmth in his face and the feeling in his belly that’s hungry for more of that.

=

He starves for her.

He starves for her hand in his, her head on his shoulder, her hair tangled in his fingers, he starves for her warmth. The way her laughter curls in his chest and makes it easier to breathe, the way her smiles loosen the noose around his neck that has been there since the day he was born, the way she somehow fits beside him like a missing puzzle piece.

The way she sneaks into the secret student kitchens within Hogwarts and makes him a warm plate of homemade pasta when he’d gotten sick of the same Hogwarts meal every day.

He nearly cries; it's flavorful and warm, the pasta so full of love that he didn’t know one could imbue into it.

“Are you crying?” (y/n) asks with a laugh. It's 5th year, she's wearing a flour-dusted apron, yolk smeared on the back of her hand, staring at him with an incredulous gaze as his eyes water and his mouth is tasting the best thing it's ever had.

“Shut up,” Tom croaked, hording over his plate—devouring the meal she so lovingly made. He didn’t know how much he was craving something like this, not just food, but food made with the intent to be for someone adored. He wipes his eyes as he finishes the plate, asking weakly; “Can I have some more?”

(y/n) smiles and makes him another plate of alfredo tortellini, and makes garlic bread a week later when he ‘subtly’ asks for more handmade pasta.

Tom discovers he loves Italian food. Especially when it’s made by (y/n), who tells him her grandpa taught her how, her family was from Italy, and had immigrated to England and America a generation back.

He spends the summer with her, at a beach villa her grandparents own, and Tom’s cheeks are bruised by the end of the first day. Her grandma loves him, and Tom gains weight for the first time in his life since starting Hogwarts.

Tom doesn’t starve anymore, he’s still hungry, he’s still greedy, he still wants everything owed to him and so much more—he wants to hoard and protect and carve a place for himself in the world.

But he doesn’t starve, not when (y/n) feeds him. not when she holds his hand, not when she plays with his hair during late night study sessions in the common room, not when she spoils him with new dress robes for the Malfoy yule ball that he gets invited too after his Slytherin ancestry is revealed, not when she kisses him beneath the mistletoe and he devours her whole.

Tom was born starving, born without comfort, born to starve to death.

Tom no longer starves, he hungers still, for everything he was deprived of when he was young, but he’s no longer grasping for the smallest things, he’s no longer afraid to take and ask and receive.

He kisses (y/n), eats her food full of love just for him, and feels full.

Tom Riddle, finally felt full.

-End-

Yaaaaaaaay, I finished it! My mom flew down from Georgia so I really wanted to finish this before I lost access to my computer, and we’re going to Disneyland on Friday!(which I have no money for…yaaay :c)

Uh, I hope you guys enjoooyed, I just really needed Tom, starved for everything, to finally feel full. byyye

@helloamalien @myspacetomriddle

[mistress-riddle]

some funny/silly headcanons i have for tom since everyone takes him way too seriously…

˖°࿐ he lowkey always looks like he's glaring at someone and it's because a. he has poor eyesight from reading things in really dark settings and b. he stays up way too late which means he gets little hours of sleep so he struggles to stay awake and has to intensely stare at everything in order to focus. (definitely has to wear glasses when he’s older…)

˖°࿐ he's a great ragebaiter but is so easy to ragebait once you get to know him a little better. with that being said, he has soooo many pet peeves that are about very minisicule things. bro is a hater first, a human second.

˖°࿐ a lot of the professors lowkey hate to see tom in their class because he's a know-it-all who will correct them if they say something wrong (it gets to a point where they just look at him after to make sure they're right, it's a great day when he nods)

˖°࿐ tom is a major sweet tooth !! i'm talking there is an unhealthy amount of sugar in his coffee in the mornings, he's always eating some kind of dessert during his meals... he only cuts down on it just so his teeth don't fall out.

˖°࿐ he does not remember peoples names unless they prove to be important to him. he uses descriptors in his head to identify them and it’s usually offensive (for e.g. “boring guy who hasn’t said anything useful probably since he first learned to speak”). honestly, he’s just terrible with names and if you asked him about someone he’d fr go “who?” before his memory gets jogged by a description.

˖°࿐ he thinks he’s very funny and is so tickled by his own jokes. what a corny loser lol, he laughs in his head (and on the outside, he just doesn’t realise it)

˖°࿐ he bruises very easily, please do not bump into him, an elbow to his bicep would make it look like he went to war.

˖°࿐ speaking of war, he’s so good at avoiding and dodging military recruiters. he does “magic” tricks and thinks it’s so funny when they’re baffled at his disappearance. it’s actually a game for him, he’s always thinking of new ways to say “no.”

˖°࿐ he reads every single book in front of him, does not discriminate at all (yes, he’s read jane austen and the brontë sisters, he was bored, give him a break?). could probably cite pages of random things off the top of his head because he’s a fucking loser nerd.

˖°࿐ the first time he smoked, he failed so miserably and ended up choking till his face turned pure red so naturally he had to acquire a whole pack because what do you mean he can’t do something as basic as inhaling? that’s so offensive.

˖°࿐ he’s loathe to admit but he doesn’t like magical hair products, they make his hair look weird so he uses pomade.

˖°࿐ he’s actually pretty good at mimicking people’s accents and voices, he did it at the orphanage to piss the other kids off and it kind of stuck. (guys, he’s sooo mature)

[zeherili-ankhein]

Mind boggling how some (or most idk) people really believe there's only two political sides for a person to choose and stick to ardently. Which rn is categorised as anti protest BJP bootlickers or pro protest CJP bootlickers (the left and right basically).

Yeah bro that's why the protest is happening cuz clearly y'all neve got the chance to be literate enough to know terms like nuance or variety exists, and that's a total failure of the education system.

[ramayantika]

Dharmendra Pradhan resigned!!!

[eizagonzalezs]

GET TO KNOW ME ♡ [6/10] Couples: ☆  Elle & Emmett (Legally Blonde)

Being a blonde is a pretty powerful thing, you hold more cards than you think you do, I personally would like to see you take that power, and channel it towards the greater good.

[ramayantika]

So i came from my exam and straight called my boyfriend up to discuss over the protests and other stuff.

He said one thing that made me go sbsjsnjsnsjsjs

So he said that in terms of choosing a partner, he feels very lucky because he has always heard of men praising their partners by calling them supportive in terms of taking care of the house and family which is why they could achieve their dreams and aspirations but never heard of them praising about the mindset, understanding, opinions and perspectives of their wives/girlfriends or partners. He said that i have never heard any man ever praise how opinionated their partners are and why different perspectives they bring rather this is often looked down upon, but he feels very lucky to have me because I get to show him different perspectives and different kinds of thoughts to the same situation and even though we may not completely agree over each and every thing, that has never stopped me from putting my thoughts and standing up to it 🥹

[ramayantika]

Aww did I hurt your fragile ego huh? You could throw jabs at girls, at me and my friend saying kya hai taange fadke naachna hi toh hai

And then you deadbeat have the fucking nerve to ask why a piece on calling men out on their shit ass projection of club going women has you in it

You are the same kind of a man, me and other girls have to encounter and tolerate.

It's not only you dogshit person. It's ever man who is at the same club but you all step out having fun and being the stud while we become sluts because we were dancing with our female friends for an evening

Pity you don't even know how to dance anyway

[podcastwizard]

LIKES TO CHARGE REBLOGS TO CAST

[the-goddess-of-annoying]

you people aren't CASTING

[the-goddess-of-annoying]

NO

[ramayantika]

MEDICINAL CHEM FUCK YOU

[whatsleftofdishaa]

JUST A REMINDER

It’s not BJP vs CJP. It’s not about supporting either one of them. It’s literally about right and wrong. It’s about the future, it’s about our basic rights, it’s about accountability, it’s about democracy of this country. It’s not about picking sides bro, It’s about picking up your conscience and choosing the country. People who are still silent, you are not looking smart, you are looking dumb for not speaking up and for choosing what’s right. It’s about how can your blood not boil knowing innocents are suffering, knowing children and students are suffering. Today, you are not the victim but tomorrow something even worse could happen to you. Then, also you won’t have any political views?

Today it’s not you but tomorrow it can be.

If that doesn’t boil your blood even a little bit something is seriously wrong with you.

[ramayantika]

The misogyny is those comedy ai dramas is sickening

[ramayantika]

Why do babies have such a strong grip?

[frailbug]

so true

[ramayantika]

I remember years ago before joining college, I had all the elders telling me ki protest hoga mat jana padhai karna.

Well I live far from Delhi all towards the eastern side of the country so there's no chance to go for the protests.

Back at home, my parents always told me to stand for the right thing even when the world is against you, but somehow there would be a limit to youth led protests ki dekh hote rahenge but you have to crack that pg exam, life mein kuch karna bhi hai yeh sab mein Jake kab kya ho you do not know and time jayega.

I agree but also disagree. I have preferred BJP over other parties. A lot of development was foundational from the previous govt and then a lot of accelerated growth happened under BJP. I agree, but then does it mean I must side with BJP for every fucking thing to prove my patriotism and nationalism?

Iske baad bhi if Dharmendra Pradhan doesn't resign toh dhikkar hai bhai. How would you be able to even come to work?

The fact that it was this govt's words calling the students anti-national. The cbse students who complained of the blurred marksheets too were called anti nations and Pakistanis until it was proved ki nahi bhai galti huyi thi and the boy was right.

Jitna acha kiya jaye doesn't mean ki you end up being an autocrat. BJP is being authoritarian. There is no opposition to support so maybe in the next elections BJP would again come to power. The state of this country is sad.

Yes there were other external slogans and ext influences coming up. I saw a few reels where some of the protestors were telling how people were instigating others to vandalise.

The day the protest turned violent, ultimately all the blows landed on the student body. Women, kids, and so many men were beaten.

Usme tab khud abhijeet truck mein baitha. That day the major political/ group faces were not there who got brutalised. The common people faced it.

In the end janta hi pis jati hai aur yeh sab apna political career set karenge politics khelenge.

True, but does that mean 'i don't support the protest anymore?'

How is that fair? The protest was and is for the neet students who were wronged, it is for asking for better education reforms.

Han anti national slogans, umar khalid, assam separation slogans were wrong, very wrong lekin jo mass mein students hai unki maange sahi hai na. Don't they deserve their questions to be answered?

I saw so many rw accounts joking about it. Sanatani hona yeh hota hai? Is this what the gods and the culture we all claim to be proud for teaches us?

Apne hinduism mein hi hai to question. Jab question kr rahe hai, tab terrorist/pak/anti national?

Sonam Wangchuk ke vajese this protest came under more highlight. Jo bol lo, it cannot be denied. I have heard that he had said some things like china ke liye they will open up and ll that. I hve to check that. I admit I am not aware, but it's only because of him so many came together.

Separist groups bhi aaye, apna apna agenda chala rahe hai par iss vajese main protest ko support nahi, sympathy nahi toh sahi hi hai yaar, hai hi dogalapan.

I am supposed to give a pg exam next year. I can't fucking imagine to go through it once again if it leaks. Halaki it is not ekdum aise bohot bada jee neet typa exam but still, there are things I am sacrificing too. Imagine you are preparing for an exam din raat mehnat karke and then leak ho jaye. Koyi kuch na bole. Kuch action na liya jaye. Phir puchne par bole terrorist ho tum, anti national ho tum.

Kyu rahega bhai iss desh ka yuva? Jayega hi bahar. Konsa desh prem aayega?

Nationalism bjp congress ko chunne se kabhi nahi hoga. I love my country, I want it to grow and develop and not be pushed to such state of affairs.

As for the reservation angle, that is a whole different issue.

I am so done with this. This is not the india I wanted to work for. BJP do fucking better please.