about the author: hello, iâm rheign! i use she/her pronouns, and i love reading and collecting books; i only started writing when i was 14, but i have always been passionate about the art of literature. my hogwarts house is slytherin (hence my username), iâm an f1 fan, and my favorite f1 driver is lewis hamilton. i'm also obsessed with penelope and colin (polin) from bridgerton, and they're the only character x character pairing i write about (so far).
other socials: you can find me on tiktok, wattpad, and ao3 under the same username (@slytherheign). i am in the process of cross-posting my works; however, there are some content differences depending on which platform i post on. my fics release schedule can be found at the bottom of this post.
đ EYES HERE! hi! whether you're a reader of mine or another fanfic writer, you're welcome to join my community! simply click here to join.
â« â blog tour
â the station. where you can find everything i write. also known as rheignwrites. my masterlist can be found here.
â the library. where you can find everything i read. also known as rheignreads. fic recommendations are in here.
â rheignrambles. where you can find my ramblings. just me talking and posting about random things.
â rheignreplies. where you can find my ask replies. answered questions are in here. want to be an anon? join the anon club!
â rheigntalks. where you can find me communicating with other blogs. this mostly include reblogs.
â« â fic release schedule
my 'character x character' pairing fics will be exclusively available on ao3 and wattpad (but with a release date schedule difference). HOWEVER, as usual, all 'x reader' fics will stay exclusively here on tumblr. if you want an 'x oc' version of those fics, head to wattpad and ao3. all one-shots will also be tumblr exclusive, while 'character x character' fics are ao3 and wattpad exclusives. if this is confusing, let me break it down for you:
â tumblr (@slytherheign):
character x reader fics (with 1 week advance in release date than wattpad and ao3)
one-shot fics (will stay as an âx readerâ and will EXCLUSIVELY be available on tumblr)
â ao3 (@slytherheign):
character x character fics (with 1 week advance in release date than wattpad)
character x original character version of my character x reader multichapter fics (1 week later than tumblr release date + with additional content sometimes)
â wattpad (@slytherheign):
character x original character version of my character x reader multichapter fics (1 week later than tumblr release date + with additional content sometimes)
character x character fics (1 week later release date than ao3)
â important notes:
i will still be only taking requests from my tumblr account.
all fic updates, fic events, fic milestone celebrations, author-reader Q&As will be posted on my tumblr community.
the reason iâm doing this is because i want to spread my fics onto different platforms and the fic release dates difference is so that people will want to visit my other writing platforms and support me there as well. i also want to be friends with more people. <3
i'm also thrilled to inform you all that i sometimes pick one-shots from my tumblr exclusives and turn them into a series that will be available on ao3 and wattpad only. as usual, i will then turn the reader into an oc for those lucky fics, and i will need your help with some decisions such as the oc's name, face claim, and possible change in plot direction. you just have to join my tumblr community if you want to participate and help me out!
just want to let yâall know that thereâs only 24 hours left to send me requests for spiderman (mcu and tasm) !! send me an ask or a message if you want to request <3 as usual the rules are found here.
as for the people who already sent in a request, iâm still organizing my ideas and will start working on them next week. if youâd like to beta read, please PLEASE message me! đ„č
p. s. youâre also welcome to join my community if you want to get updated!
following this announcement, just want to notify you guys that spider-man requests are now closed! in total i have 1 four-fiveish part series and 3 one-shots in the works!
just want to let yâall know that thereâs only 24 hours left to send me requests for spiderman (mcu and tasm) !! send me an ask or a message if you want to request <3 as usual the rules are found here.
as for the people who already sent in a request, iâm still organizing my ideas and will start working on them next week. if youâd like to beta read, please PLEASE message me! đ„č
p. s. youâre also welcome to join my community if you want to get updated!
Im inLOVE with your work and cant believe u write for tasm peter since hes like. genuinely rotting my brain rn. anyways! would love some peter fluff that's a bit suggestive of him sneaking up on you through your window, similarly to what he did a bunch with gwen!!
this is noted! thanks for requesting! in the meantime, i feel like you would LOVE this fic of mine called "late night visitor". it's fluff and full of tension! <3
haiya! may i request tasm!peter x reader spidey angst with him getting whiplash and being afraid to commit with y/n or being avoidant/distant because of past trauma & heartbreak? thanks!
i already made a series with the same kind of premise (perhaps even worse because peter pretended he was dead to protect the reader). check out WORTH if you havenât seen it yet.
but if youâve already read that and are asking for a one-shot with the same theme, iâll see what i can do. do you have a specific song, word, quote, line, or piece of dialogue that i could use as a prompt?
hiii i saw ur accepting requests for peter rn!! can i request anything with shy peter and a first kiss with the reader! just something simple please since mostly everything on here is smut đ
yes, of course! i love this idea and i can already think of something sweet i can add to this! đ«¶
p.s. if you're interested, you can also join my community to get updates on this request. <3
request for mcu!peter parker x reader where the reader is tonyâs daughter and her memories of peter were erased like everyone else but she feels like something is missing. she knows spider-man bc of the avengers and tony but she wonders why tony would trust spider-man without knowing who he is. sheâs also been having headaches and flashbacks to her memories with peter but in these flashbacks she canât see his face. in bnd when peter goes to see bruce shes also there visiting bruce and when she sees peter she feel like sheâs met him before. hopefully that all makes sense, thank you!
ooh, thanks for requesting! i've been having ideas with the same main theme and plot point, to be honest. i could take free liberty and combine my ideas and yours and make this into a series with alternating perspectives, if that's okay with you? the other option is that you could collaborate with me to become a beta reader (beta read + suggest specific plot directions) or a writer (write with me + have half of the control over this story.)
p.s. if you're interested, you can also join my community to get updates on this request. <3
spider-man brand new day was so good that it gave me a LOT of writing motivation. for that reason, fanfic requests for mcu!peter and tasm!peter are open right now!
rules for requesting are found here: https://www.tumblr.com/slytherheign/683642776151310336/%F0%96%A5%A0-welcome-to-rheignwrites-the-station-this-is
detailed process and updates about your request will be posted here: https://www.tumblr.com/join/r5q7wfko
DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE TO SEE ALL THINGS WTS (reviews, commentary, updates, reblogs about the series). OR... head over to THE COMMON ROOM to join my community and feel free to discuss this series as well as many others.
Y/N and Peter Parker have already lost a lot of important people in their lives, causing them to build emotional walls around themselves to protect against the pain from experiencing the hurt that comes with yet another loss.
Two broken people can only do two things to each other:
Either they heal each other.
Or break each other even more.
PART I: WORTH THE RISK
PART II: WORTH THE TEARS
PART III: WORTH THE WAIT
PART IV: WORTH THE PAIN
PART V: WORTH IT ALL
[â ïžïžTHIS SERIES HAS A RATING OF 17+. ONLY 17 AND ABOVE MAY PROCEED TO READ.]
Each part has specific warnings written before the start. Please be warned before proceeding to read. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
Moodboards, feedback, memes, tiktoks, commentary, etc. about the series are greatly appreciated. Please use the official series tag and mention me so I can see it!Â
Official series hashtag: #worth: the series
WORTH: THE SERIES IS NOW CROSS-POSTED ON WATTPAD AND AO3! But thereâs a twistâŠ
Thatâs right! Instead of it being an âx Reader,â I turned it into a TASM! Peter Parker x Original female character story. But donât worryâif you still prefer reading it with yourself as the main character, the series will stay as a TASM! Peter Parker x Reader here on Tumblr. This way, readers who prefer an original character version can enjoy the series without being bothered by the words âY/Nâ and âL/Nâ.
If youâre confused, check out this post.
If you decide to read this new version, the first chapter of the story will include a cast list, which is basically the actors I had in mind while writing the characters in this series. If you want to see who I pictured for Carlos, Charlene, and Mac/Mitchell, then go ahead!
in honor of brand new day and scorpion/mac gargan making an appearance⊠hereâs a shameless plug for my tasm!peter parker fanfic series featuring scorpion as the main villain, if anyone wants to check it out. đ«¶
itâs full of twists, and iâve added a few original characters along the way. itâs primarily an x reader fanfic, but thereâs also an original character version posted on ao3 and wattpad. more info is in the post!
iâm thrilled to inform you all that i will occasionally pick one-shots from my tumblr exclusives and turn them into full series that will be available only on ao3 and wattpad. as usual, i will be turning the reader into an oc for those lucky fics, and i will need your help with decisions such as the ocâs name, face claim, and possible changes in plot direction. if youâd like to participate and help me out, all you have to do is join my tumblr community!
for reference, these are the one-shots: YBWM | LNV | SOTB/AWTR | SIGHTSEEING
help me by joining my community and voting on the poll! updates and announcements about the progress will be posted there and i will also need your insight and suggestions every now and then about this new series and other future fics!
community link: https://www.tumblr.com/join/r5q7wfko || poll link: https://www.tumblr.com/communities/slytherheign-common-room/post/818561420460523520/thinking-of-turning-one-of-my-one-shots-into-a
a community for readers of slytherheign's stories! connect with fellow readers to discuss fanfics, engage directly with the author, enjoy ex
iâm thrilled to inform you all that i will occasionally pick one-shots from my tumblr exclusives and turn them into full series that will be available only on ao3 and wattpad. as usual, i will be turning the reader into an oc for those lucky fics, and i will need your help with decisions such as the ocâs name, face claim, and possible changes in plot direction. if youâd like to participate and help me out, all you have to do is join my tumblr community!
for reference, these are the one-shots: YBWM | LNV | SOTB/AWTR | SIGHTSEEING
help me by joining my community and voting on the poll! updates and announcements about the progress will be posted there and i will also need your insight and suggestions every now and then about this new series and other future fics!
community link: https://www.tumblr.com/join/r5q7wfko || poll link: https://www.tumblr.com/communities/slytherheign-common-room/post/818561420460523520/thinking-of-turning-one-of-my-one-shots-into-a
a community for readers of slytherheign's stories! connect with fellow readers to discuss fanfics, engage directly with the author, enjoy ex
Summary: Tom did despise you. He despised you in the way that you did not look at him how he looked at you. He despised that you did not feel the same. Heâd only come to realize his feelings only yesterday, but he burned for you the same he has always done. He just had a name to it, now.
Pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader
Words: 5.5k
Warnings: vague mentions of child abuse if u squint, academic rivalry!au, kissing, handjob
Authors note: this was requested by @roughlypinkfalcon ! got so inspired at 3am, i stayed up till 7am writing this lol. if anyone has any requests, i feel like writing so shoot me an ask or a message and i'll do my best! i haven't been writing much but i've been in the mood for it again yayy. i might do a pt. 2 if anyone is interested so lmk :D
In the darkness of the forest, Tom finds you. Neither of you were supposed to be out outside of the castle this late, especially in the forbidden forest. He had snuck out to retrieve an item of great importance to him, but had come back empty handed. He had deemed the night a complete loss, until he had stumbled upon you by the lake. It was exactly what heâd been needing. Blackmail, to keep you at bay. You had become an annoying thorn in his academic life.Â
Tom has always been smart, top of the class, but there was also you - someone dangerously on his heels, and sometimes getting the upper hand, burning Tom one too many times in your rivalry against one another. He hated admitting defeat. His hatred - at least, he thought it was hatred, he didnât know what else to name it - for you simmered hotter and hotter with every passing year, every class you had together, racing to be the first to finish tests, answer questions first, get the better grade.Â
You breaking curfew was exactly what he needed to get you in trouble, not permanently, but it brings a sickening smile to his face at the thought of you losing house points, and receiving detention. It was the last thing you wanted, so he could use this to his advantage.
âA little late for an evening stroll, donât you think?â Tom calls out from the trees.Â
Your figure whips around, but you do not raise your wand. Your arms remain wrapped around your middle.
Tomâs shit-eating grin falters when he catches the traces of tear marks glinting on your cheeks. He has never seen you cry before. Youâve never shown weakness. The only two emotions he ever saw from you was your smugness at besting him, and anger for losing to him.Â
Feeling like heâd walked in on something he shouldnât have, Tom takes a step back, suddenly uncomfortable at catching you in such a vulnerable moment.Â
âTom Riddle?â you call out, squinting in the darkness.Â
He could just leave. Pretend like he hadnât seen you breaking down alone, in the middle of the forest, late at night. You were a private person, and this felt like the worst moment anyone, especially Tom Riddle, considering your history, could interrupt.Â
But apart of himself doesnât want to leave, maybe curious to know what had brought down his mightiest rival.Â
âI know it is you,â you say hotly, that trademark tone youâd use on Tom bleeding back into the softness of your voice. âCome out.â
He does not come out because you had told him to, but rather for himself.Â
The night was especially chilly tonight, a layer of fog creeping along the forest floor so thick that it does not even part for Tom as he makes his way to your side. You were not dressed for the weather, apparent by the way you were shaking slightly. Unless you were just that upset. It was probably both. You were in nothing but your nightgown, and it looks like you have been crying for some time.Â
âGetting sick will earn you no pity points from me,â he tells you.
âI am not trying to get sick.â
âThen, where is your sweater?â he asks, and nearly grimaces at how it had come out. He was not worried for you. He didnât care that you were out here alone in nothing but a thin cotton gown.Â
âI did not realize you were concerned about my health.â
Tom narrows his eyes. âI am not.â
The silence that followers has Tom scanning the area. You were the last person he expected to see out here. He hadnât expected to see anyone, but you would have been the last on his list. You were always careful. Never stepped out of line in fears of getting in trouble. You played by the rules, studied hard, and being caught out here would most definitely land you in trouble.
âWhat are you doing out here, this late at night?â Tom asks.
Before you can answer, you let out a sneeze that echos deep within the landscape of the forest. He glances around, almost like he was waiting for something to leap out and attack. When nothing happens, he zeros in on you with a hard stare before he begrudgingly shucks off his jacket.Â
âTake this before you freeze to death,â he says with clenched teeth.
You look at the jacket heâs holding out for you for a moment, mouth parting in surprise, but ultimately take it without saying anything. He watches as you slip it on, the materials setting nicely upon your shivering frame. Youâre quiet for a moment as you fiddle with the buttons.
âI couldnât take the pressure,â you answer truthfully. Your voice is like gravel, maybe experiencing some level of pain at admitting anything to your rival. âI have been studying for hours. I⊠I felt suffocated in the dorms. I needed air.â
Tom knows well of the expectations your family held for you. A pureblood line, family running back to the families of old. It is why you tried so hard. It is why you wanted to be the best. You had family expectations to up hold, while Tom was trying to prove himself to the world. He didnât need to be the best; but you did.Â
Of course, Tom held some respect for you and your familyâs name. If only you werenât his biggest opponent, he would recruit you into his mission. Heâs thought about it countless times. Youâd make a good ally. With your combined smarts and magic, it would give him an unfair advantage above those lower than him. Your magic was strong, like his. Your pureblood magic was to thank for that.Â
He did not have the same family as you did, not the same weight on his shoulders, but he understood to a certain degree. He himself had his own expectations. He had plans. Dreams. Things he wanted to achieve - no, needed to achieve, otherwise he was as good as nothing. Heâs never given much thought to how you felt in all of this. Heâs never seen this⊠human side of you. It felt too intimate considering the nature of your relationship.Â
And he had given you his jacket.
Tom did not like others touching his things. But this was someone he held in esteem, reluctantly. He wished he could hate you, truly hate you, but there was always some form of excitement when you were neck and neck, fighting to come out on top.
âStudying for hours? There are no tests tomorrow, and the homework was nothing out of the ordinary. Trying to one up me again?â he throws out, in his weird attempt at trying to lighten the sullen mood.Â
The setting was only adding to the mystery that was dripping from your form. He could see the marks of exhaustion and defeat in the eyebags carved into your smooth skin.Â
âI am falling behind,â you say, bottom lip trembling. âMy family will kill me.â
Tom does not know if youâre exaggerating, but he doesnât think you were lying for sympathy.Â
âYou got higher marks than me on our last test. You are not falling behind, sadly.â
Trust Tom to know when heâs lost to you.Â
You bring a hand up to wipe at the tears that have just begun to fall, a forced laugh escaping your lips. âBecause I have been killing myself studying. I can hardly eat, sleep, without worrying that⊠if I do not come out on top, my parents, they will -â your hand finds its way to your throat, where it rubs absently into the skin.Â
âIt is not like youâre failing. You score perfect on nearly every exam,â he says in somewhat annoyance.Â
âIt is not enough,â you say quietly. âIf I am not the best, I am losing in their eyes.â
âWhy are you telling me all of this?â Tom asks then, uneasy, not know what to even say to what you had admitted. He wasnât good at consoling people. No one has ever even cried to him, and for you to be the first one, well. He just wishes he knew what to do. He feels like he is doing a poor job at trying to consol you. If that was even Tom trying to consol you.
âI donât know,â you say, shrinking further into his jacket that he was beginning to regret giving away. It was freezing. âYou are quite possibly the worst person I could talk to about this.â
Toms lip quirks up in amusement, his sentiments exactly, but he hides it. âI agree.â
âWhat are you doing out here, anyways?â
âBusiness.âÂ
âBusiness? What business does a Hogwarts student have at this hour?âÂ
âNothing of your concern,â he tells you snippily.
âI could report you for being out past curfew, you know.â
âI am the Prefect here. Who do you think theyâll believe?â
You give a shrug, defeated.Â
Tom feels a chill go up his spine. He was tired. The night was a complete loss - except for this odd encounter.Â
âAnd donât expect me to go easy on you because of this,â Tom says.
For the first time since heâs known you, you give a small laugh. A real laugh, not the bouts of laughter brought out from your own arrogance or anger. It rings like bells in his head, and pulls an involuntary feeling in his stomach that has always taunted him. That same feeling he always gets with you. Not hatred, but⊠something else.
âI didnât expect anything of the sort. And we should be heading back, itâs late.â
The walk back to the castle is quiet, but it is no longer awkward. He throws you a few looks, confused on how to feel about the situation, just wanting to make sure you were really still there. He didnât know what to make of it. Youâve never spoken anything more than heated words between wins and losses, gloating or making promises that you would win next time.Â
Tonight you were honest with him. You were real.
It was the most human connection Tom has ever had, and it has an odd feeling swirling in his chest. Ever since youâd laughed. Youâd smiled at him. Youâve smiled at him before, but the self-satisfied kind for one upping him. This smile was genuine.Â
And you give him that same smile when you stop to part ways, both not knowing what to say. Neither of you were worried about getting caught. It was a regular occurrence for the both of you to slip out past curfew, it seemed.
âThanks for⊠listening to me,â you mumble, hands still playing with the jacket.
âI did not have much of a choice.â
Your eyes roll. âYouâre acting like you couldnât have just walked away.â
âI wouldnât leave you there like that,â Tom says. You had been a pitiful mess when heâd seen you. He had thought about leaving - but he knew he wouldnât really. Any thoughts of reporting you are also forgotten.
âWhy? I thought you hated me.â
Tom chokes up for a second, almost feeling like he was caught. With what - caring for you? He does not care. He regains his composure. âThere would be no one left to challenge me, if anything happened to you,â he says dismissively. âGoodnight.â
âGoodnight,â you echo, turning and leaving him standing alone in the hallway.Â
He does not even think of his missing jacket until he gets to his room. He finds himself not minding. He trusted you to look after it. You knew how to take care of things; you were probably one of the only competent students in the school.
The next day, when he sees you, the usual crackling of tension just⊠isnât there. Not until a week later, when a test is announced, one that is worth a good chunk of your grade, and the odd truce you two had unanimously agreed upon goes up in smoke.Â
He catches you in the hallway after class, slinking up to where youâre already furiously scribbling away in a notebook.
âYou should know,â Tom tells you, and you glance up with a scowl. âThat I am extremely well versed in the exams topic.â
âYou should know that so am I.â
âThen why do you look so worried?â
Your expression falters for a moment, your fear showing through the mask of anger youâd been wearing, and Tomâs delight dissolves into a heavy sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He doesnât carry on walking with you after that. He lags behind, watching as you dart for the library to study.Â
Your words from the lake play in his mind. Your family wanted you to be the best, and if you werenât the best, then⊠he wonders, briefly, what they do when theyâre unhappy with you. You seemed scared. He does not know if its because you simply do not like being talked down to, or if they hurt you in other ways. Some pureblood families were extreme. On the outside, your family was regal, pristine, but he doesnât know what goes on behind closed doors.Â
The test was in a week from the day it was announced, and Tom does not see you much, like usual, before a big test. He of course spots you in the library, but you never see him. You never do notice when heâd watch you from between the books, even before youâd talked. He had an odd fascination with you, and how your mind worked. Heâs always wanted a glimpse inside; but now that he has, he almost regrets it.Â
He thinks back to when youâd met.Â
Your rivalry had started from the very first class youâd had together.Â
Tom has always been smarter than anyone heâs ever met, so when he learned that he did not score the highest on a test, heâd immediately looked into you. He was pleased that you were a pureblooded wizard, and even more so from such a prestigious family. Heâd thought about recruiting you, but then heâd notice that you fought to answer questions faster than he could in classes, and how you were always fighting for the number one spot he usually always claimed. It felt like youâd started a war with him.Â
Heâd hated you at first, thinking of all the ways heâd get rid of you, having you expelled, but over the years, heâd grown used to it. He had started looking forward to the push and pull of your relationship. Who would win and who would lose. Tom loved to gloat in your face and make you mad, but that was before heâd learned about just why you tried so hard. It felt different, now. Heâd seen how worried youâd been at the lake. And now, he just sees that same girl from that night standing at the waters end, crying, at your wits end.Â
When the test starts, Tom is almost nervous to begin. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, but youâre as composed as ever.Â
Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe you had exaggerated.Â
The test isnât easy, but it isnât the hardest test heâs ever taken, either. He finishes it in record time, and sets down his quill with a sense of accomplishment when he notices that heâs completed it before you did. Only by a few minutes, as you are second to finish. Your eyes meet his, and he raises the corner of his lip into a sharp half grin. I win, it says.
âA little slow today?â he asks you once class is over, and students filter out of the room. He canât help it, so used to poking fun at you anytime he had the advantage. You always did the same. It was just as annoying as it probably was for both of you.Â
âI was merely checking my work,â you snap at him, but youâre soon wearing a smug grin of your own. âAre you so obsessed with me that you noticed I finished three minutes after you did?â
Tom tilts his head down closer to you, amused. âI never said it was three minutes.â
Your eyes widen, mouth opening with something to say. âI - I was guessing.â
âOddly specific for a guess.â
That is the end of that, you decide, because you simply walk away. Tom doesnât stop you. He carries on to his next classes, the test forgotten, until youâre given them back a few days later. Heâs received top marks, 100%, to his satisfaction. He immediately looks to you, ready to rub it in your face, until he sees the unmistakable quiver of your bottom lip. Your expression was wrecked, unable to conceal your horror, only schooling your features when you finally look up to see Tom staring.Â
For the remainder of the class, Tom keeps his eyes on you. And you do not look his way once.Â
Heâs never seen you react like that to any test.Â
When class ends, you tear out of the room, with Tom hot on your heels. He knew youâd make a quick escape so heâd planned ahead to be ready once dismissed. He does not run, but he keeps a brisk pace to keep track of where you were darting off to. He loses you around a corner, and he stands there, lost, until he hears the unmistakable sound of someone crying.Â
Up a flight of stairs and into a concealed room, Tom finds you curled up by a window sobbing into your knees.
âThat bad?â Tom asks.Â
You startle again, jerking your head up to see who had dared follow you. He almost thought youâd be happy to see him, maybe, but your reaction is one of disgust.
âChased after me just to see me cry again, Riddle?â you snarl, angrily wiping your tears. âDo you like seeing me upset?â
No, actually. Not like this. Not when you were actually upset. He loved to rile you up, but not to the point of tears. This is only the second time heâs seen you cry, and it is just as uncomfortable as the first time. He doesnât know why, but it brings a sickening kind of churning in his stomach when seeing you like this; truly upset.Â
âNo, I donât,â he says, matter of fact.Â
âThen why are you here? Did you really come to see if I was ok?â
Youâre saying it like youâre saying something unbelievable, because it was. He shouldnât be here. He shouldnât care. And he doesnât.Â
At least, thatâs what he keeps telling himself.Â
But seeing you crying, miserable, doesnât bring him the pleasure he thought seeing his rival like that would bring him.Â
âWhat was your score?â Tom asks instead of answering your question.Â
You huff, reaching into your pocket to pull out a crumbled piece of paper and throw it in his direction. He catches it with ease, and smoothes out the paper. Youâd gotten 15 points off a 30 point test. Youâd failed it.
âI donât understandâŠâ Tom frowns at you as he brings the paper down from view. âHow is this possible? I saw you studying all week.â
âI couldnât remember anything,â you say lowly. Your head hangs between your shoulders in defeat. âI⊠Iâve been having trouble sleeping. I visit the lake every night to think.âÂ
Tom bristles. âWhat?âÂ
Not sleeping, and going into the forest, alone? You had a death wish.
âIt is the only place I can go to be alone. Truly alone. Not surrounded by people who know me, and my parents.â
âYouâre making yourself sick going out in the cold.â
You tuck a stand of hair behind your ear, looking almost sheepish. âActually⊠I wear your jacket to keep me warm. I still have it, you know. I can, um. Give it back.â
Tom inhales a breath at that, surprised. He knew you had his jacket, but he hadnât actually thought about what you were doing with it. You had plenty of your own clothes. Coming from a wealthy pureblooded family, you had whatever you wanted at your disposal. He was surprised you found something from him, a poor orphan, appealing. Comforting.Â
âKeep it,â Tom says.
You glance up at him, calmer now. âWhy?â
âIf it provides you even the smallest bit of comfort, then itâs yours.â
Your eyes are red from crying, but it seems that youâve regained your composure. You even offer a small smile. âIt really shouldnât, but it smells like you, and, wellâŠâ
Tomâs heart unexpectedly kicks in his chest at your confession. He didnât know he meant that much, if anything, to you. Being comforted by his smell alone made Tom feel⊠confused, more than ever.Â
âI - I mean, itâs just - itâs comfortable too,â youâre quick to tack on, like thatâll make Tom forget what you had just said.Â
âOf course,â Tom says stiffly.Â
Neither of you say anything for a moment, both struck by what you had admitted, before you give a sigh.Â
âMy parents are going to kill me,â you tell him. Youâre no longer upset, but seem to be in a state of acceptance. Thereâs a faraway look that enters your eyes when you glance up at him. âYouâll get your jacket back soon enough, when I am gone.â
Tom balls his fists. âYou donât mean that.â
You drop your gaze to peer out the window. âI do. You donât know my family. I have never gotten such a low score in all of my years at Hogwarts. I fear they will pull me from the school, saying theyâre not teaching me anything, and have me home schooled.â
Thereâs a second where Tom pictures it; you, gone, no longer the first person he looked at in class - the first person he looked for, period, at the beginning of the day, and at the end of the day. No one else could keep up with him. No one else excited him to even a fraction of how you made him feel.Â
âI wonât let that happen,â Tom swears. âLeave it to me.â
âWhat? Tom!â you call out, but he swoops out of the room with a swish of his robes.Â
He scales down the stairs quicker than you can scramble to chase after him, and makes a beeline back to the classroom, where he finds the teacher. Heâs preparing for the next class, and greets Tom, his favorite student, with a proud smile. Unbeknownst to the teacher, Tom locks the door behind himself, effectively keeping you out when you tug on the doorknob.Â
Minutes pass in which you are outside of the classroom, nervously biting at your fingernails, when the door pops open with a click and Tom comes breezing out into the hallway.  Â
âWhat did you do?â you ask, trying to peer around him into the classroom, but he guides you away from the room with a hand to the small of your back.
Itâs the first time Tom has ever touched you, and youâre both a little jittery from the contact. He leads you around a corner and stops you once youâre out of earshot from other students.Â
âYou need not worry about the grade you got on the test,â Tom says quietly.Â
You blink up at him, stunned, not knowing what to say. You manage to splutter out, âwhat does that mean? What did you do?â
âI fixed the problem. Youâre safe from your parents, and more importantly, you will stay here, at Hogwarts,â Tom says with finality.Â
A silent âwith meâ lingers in the air.
You search his eyes, but heâs as firm as ever, not even an ounce of hesitation or fear in his expression.Â
For the first time, someone has solved your problems. Your parents never offered their aid. They expected you to figure everything out on your own, using that smart brain of yours, and acted upset when you were less than perfect.Â
You sigh out, relieved, so relieved. You trust him when he said heâd fixed it. You didnât know what he did, youâd find out soon enough, but he had helped you. You, his rival. His sworn enemy.Â
âThank you, Tomâ you say. To his shock, you grab hold of his tie, and pull him down to plant a kiss upon his cheekbone. âI owe you one.â
Toms mouth hangs open as you walk off, his hand absently coming up to touch at the warmed spot where your lips had been. He hadnât expected any kind of reward from what he had done, you staying here was enough. But that kiss has his heart racing, breaths slow and almost labored, from a mere kiss to his cheek. He was reacting in such a way that when a boy receives a kiss from someone he liked.Â
But Tom did not like you.
He loathed you.
But he hated the idea more at you not being at Hogwarts anymore. He couldnât imagine how dreadfully boring school would become. Itâs such a stark contrast to how he first felt about you, wishing youâd get expelled, no longer there to bother him. Funny how feelings evolve. He never thought himself as one to get attached to, well, anything. Whether it be other humans or objects. But he can say with certainty if anything happened to you - if an outside force, other than himself of course, got you upset, he wouldnât stand for it. He loved those moments where your eyes were alight with fire. He loved when you spoke cruelly towards him, and only him.
He⊠loved you.
Somewhere in the battle, heâd unknowingly given apart of himself to you. You were his equal. You were his best match.Â
He thought you were his enemy, but you were something to be valued, not discarded.Â
Itâs a hard thing to come to terms with, especially after all the years of what he thought was hatred, but was really the love heâs tried masking.Â
Tom Riddle didnât love. Not like a normal person would, anyways. His version of love was twisted. Warped by his upbringing and just how his mind worked. He wouldnât settle for just anyone; and you were better than anyone he has ever met. By brains, magic, and status alone. He cared little for looks, but the slope of your nose, down to the shape of your hair, just made sense.
And physical contact was not something he went looking for. There were students who made passes at him, hinting that they would love to date, kiss, do anything with him, but heâs never been interested.Â
Never interested till now.Â
Till youâd kissed him, kissed his cheek, and now he is being consumed by thoughts he has never had for another before. He knows how to focus on his school work. He is a master at self control, but even you have him skirting the edges of those restraints.Â
The day after heâd helped you, after youâd kissed him, he watches you like a hawk. He spots you from the moment you enter the dining hall for breakfast, and throughout classes. He does not think heâll speak with you that day, until it is after the class youâd failed the test in. Youâre there before him, so he assumes youâd talked to the teacher before class started. Your expression is blank throughout the entirety of the class. Eyes forward and focused, like you didnât dare miss anything.
Afterwards, though, you level Tom with a look and nod for him to follow after you. And he does, he listens, following you through the halls until you lead him to the stairway, and up to the small room with a window.Â
âYou used a memory charm?â you ask him, incredulous. âDo you know how dangerous that is?â
âYou dare doubt my ability to perform a memory charm? I have been using more advanced spells since I was in my first year.â
âWhat if he remembers? What if he - what if he tells Dumbledore?â
Tom scoffs. âHe will not remember. You should be grateful.â
âI am, Tom, itâs just⊠I donât understand why you would put everything at risk over me. I thought you despised me.â
He did despise you. He despised you in the way that you did not look at him how he looked at you. He despised that you did not feel the same. Heâd only come to realize his feelings only yesterday, but he burned for you the same he has always done. He just had a name to it, now. It is why he had protected you. It is why he has risked his own expulsion so you could stay at Hogwarts with him.
âThe only thing I despise, is you not being by my side,â Tom admits lowly.Â
Your eyes widen. Youâre at a loss for words, Tom can see, but there is no disgust in your expression. It is hard to tell what youâre thinking, until your eyes drop to his lips, the surprise melting into something that has Tomâs stomach rolling over in his abdomen.Â
Like when you had kissed his cheek, you are first to initiate.Â
Tom allows you to grab hold of his tie again, and bring him down, closer, his eyes slipping shut at the first brush of your lips against his. He sighs out through his nose, allowing everything to happen slowly, so slowly, so he doesnât lose control. Heâs trembling where he stands as he fights to have some composure, but when your lips press firmly into his, he lets out a soft groan that was hiding at the back of his throat.Â
All those years of watching, fighting, rivalry, hatred that turned into something closer to admiration, bleed into the desperation of the kiss.Â
Youâre just as frantic, soft hands leaving trails of fire up his arms and scorching burn marks into his cheek and chest where they come to rest.Â
It is you telling Tom that, just as he has watched you, you have watched him. You have noticed him in those quiet moments where he thought no one was looking at him. Youâve seen how hard he worked. Youâve seen how dedicated he was. It inspired you, just as you inspired him. You pushed each other to be better. Work harder.Â
Tom bites at the plushness of your bottom lip, and your mouth opens up to let out a gasp, but in doing so youâve only allowed Tom in. He kisses you hungrily, deeper, both of you fighting each other to be the dominant tongue. Like everything, youâre at war. Youâre just as skilled, just as angry, as Tom was.Â
At some point heâs backed you into the wall, and really, you should have just given in to losing this round. He can feel himself pulling ahead. His hands drop to your breasts, where he pinches and squeezes along your skin. With every pleased noise you make, Tom earns another point in his head.Â
His concentration is shattered when you unexpectedly press your hand into his cock, jolting him in place. His eyes snap open only for them to screw shut when you beginning rubbing into his pants, the hands heâd been using to fondle you with twitching to a stop. He has to bring them up to plant on either sides of your head, nearly losing his footing as you use your nimble fingers to make him dizzy.Â
Tom canât hold the kiss any longer, breaking it to rest his head against yours, breathing heavily as he struggles to stay upright. Heâs losing himself of the feeling of your hand petting him through his pants, maybe thankful for the barrier there, but it was like youâd heard his thoughts, and unbuckle his belt. He tries to muffle the noise he makes when you make contact with his bare skin, but it slips out between clenched teeth.Â
âStill think youâre winning, Tom?â comes your silky voice.Â
He was losing, badly, but the feeling of you stroking him has him not caring about that. Only for that moment. Only until you make him orgasm seamlessly, and he comes down from his high. He hadnât lasted long at all. It was probably the most embarrassed Tom has ever felt. And for it to have been him who deepened things, started touching you, only for this to be the outcome? Embarrassing. Heâd lost at his own game.
To make things worse, youâre grinning madly, watching as he hurriedly cleans himself up with a spell and quickly buckles his pants.Â
âYou had an unfair advantage,â Tom gives as an excuse.
âAnd what was that?â
You were, well, you. That put you at an advantage no one else had.Â
Instead of telling you that, because that would surely inflate your ego even more, Tom levels you with a look he attempts to make fierce, but there is no anger to fuel it. He just stares at you for a moment, maybe in awe, before he says, âmeet me in the library after class. Weâll study together, from now on. I cannot fix your problems every time you fail a test.â
âWha - that was one time, Tom!â you shout after him, as he trots down the stairs.Â
Summary: After you are expelled from Hogwarts, you take up a job at Borgin and Burkes as a cursed objects hunter. Tom is always mesmerized when you breeze in to sell whatever it is youâve found out in the field. Lines are crossed. Bonds are made. It isnât until youâre hurt, and stay with Tom, that he realizes how much you meant to him.
Pairings: pining!tom riddle x fem!reader
Words: 9.8k
Warnings: injury, blood, alcohol use, unprotected sex
Authors note: i loved the idea of the reader being like a rough and tough go getter, either always dirty and looking straight off a runway. no in between. I saw a lot of outfit ideas on twt and the whole thing kinda spiraled from there lol. again, wouldâve made it longer, but i figured almost 10k words was enough
How you enter the shop was always a surprise. It is either one of two ways: youâd apparate in, dirty, having just gotten away from whatever it was guarding the cursed item youâd taken, or youâd breeze in through the front door in a flawless, well put together outfit.Â
It is always amusing to guess which side of you he will see whenever a delivery is to be made.Â
Today, it seems, is one of the days you apparate into the store. Your clothing is covered in dirt and thereâs a cut on your cheekbone, but you reign victorious with a small box that you place upon the counter.Â
âCursed ring,â you tell him after a moment of having to catch your breath. âIt renders a person blind when worn.âÂ
Tom takes the wooden box in his hands and opens it to peer inside. A beautiful red ruby stares up at him. He hovers a finger over the jewel, feeling the hum of magic within.Â
You were Borgin and Burkes best hunter for cursed objects.Â
There were several ways they acquired the objects they sold within the shop, most of which were shady and usually always illegal, but there were some wizards whoâd merely stumbled upon them. Family heirlooms they didnât know what to do with. Gifts from odd wizards.Â
You were always their most solid player yet.Â
Almost every week, youâd come in with something new to sell.Â
The wizarding world was old; there were countless cursed objects out there, old and new ones being made every so often. Hunters could look for the entirely of their lives and thereâd still be more for others to find. You just happened to have a knack for locating them.Â
Tom had always been curious about you. He remembers when you two attended Hogwarts together, before you had gotten expelled in your last year. He knows it is why youâve turned to this lifestyle. Why you cannot find a proper job amongst the wizarding folk. You were an outcast, a liability.Â
All the more reason you were perfect for the job.Â
No one paid attention to you. No one dared spare a second glance at the girl whoâd murdered a student at Hogwarts, and gotten away with it.Â
âWhere did you find this?â Tom asks as he closes the box. He knew better than to touch it and you knew better than to warn him.Â
You swipe at the weeping wound on your cheek, but this only causes you to streak it further down your skin, along with a smudge of dirt from your hands. He never did like when youâd show up in such a state. It made him feel almost a weird sense of pity for you. He never minded the sight of blood, but yours always had him feeling a little sick in the stomach.
âNew Zealand, in the mountains,â you say. âHad to take a shoddy Portkey that dropped me two hours away, and then I hiked my way in.â
âThat explains why you are soâŠâ Tom eyes you up and down. There was even dirt in your hair. He almost wants to offer bringing you a towel to wipe down with, but it has been something heâs offered to you before, and was turned away like youâd been offended.
âNo. The room was underground, and it started caving in on me the moment I removed the ring from its place. I had to crawl out.â
Tom makes a noise of acknowledgment. It is a wonder youâre still alive. Others have died escaping lesser traps.
âI will throw in an added bonus, then,â Tom tells you. âFor your efforts.â
You give a nod, and that is all.Â
It isnât until another week and a half later that you come in again, but this time youâre not on the verge of collapse.Â
You stride in with a small bag in your gloved hands.Â
Tom pauses from talking with a customer to watch as you come closer, movements controlled and confident in a way that he has seen from you a hundred times over, but never fails to have him completely captivated.Â
There is always a sort of elegance to how youâd dress. A danger that had him intrigued.Â
Tom favored objects that were of use to him. He always had an eye out for anything that could be posed as a threat, and he usually found that in cursed items. But you held that same feeling, whenever he looked it you, it was the same type of thrill heâd get out of staring at a rare artifact he wanted for himself. He had quite the collection at home. Youâd be a good fit there, amongst the magical entities that could kill you if handled wrong. Heâs sure you held the same type of power, one wrong move on Tomâs part, and youâd throw a curse at his head.
âMy, my,â says the lady heâs helping. Sheâs older, nicer than his usual customers. She had an item she wanted to sell to him, and heâd been extremely interested until you had walked in. She catches sight of you and a knowing smirk touches her lips. âMaybe I should be on my way. It seems as though something more valuable has just caught your attention.â
For a brief moment, Tom does not know what to say. His perfect mask as a cursed objects salesperson had slipped.Â
He picks it back up with ease and pleads, gently, for her to stay. He knows what to say, how to act, when he is negotiating for something he wanted. He was quite persuasive.Â
The woman sells him the item with little to no convincing. She had merely wanted his attention, but it had been rather hard ignoring your presence in the shop, even though you had slipped into the back. He felt your energy there like a warm breath on the back of his neck.
âDidnât just crawl out of a hole this time, I see,â Tom says as he enters the back of the shop. Heâd flipped the sign to closed and locked the door, least another customer bother him while youâre there.
Youâre lounging at his desk, feet propped up on the table as you toyed with a dagger in your hands. It had been sitting on his desk awaiting to be examined. He hadnât been able to tell or not if it was truly cursed, but you seem to have done the work for him as you twirl it between your fingers.
âThis is a dud,â you tell him, not paying his comment any mind. You toss it in the air briefly, testing the weight, before turning towards him.Â
Tom forgets himself, his magic, as you launch it in his direction. He stumbles back as the knife imbeds itself into the wall directly beside his fucking head.Â
âHow dare you,â Tom snarls. He rips it from the wall angrily, and tosses it onto his desk. He knocks your legs to the floor. âHave some respect. Sit up.â
You scoff, rearranging yourself on the chair. âYes, mom. Lighten up, Tom.â
âYou just made a threat upon my life. You are lucky I do not curse you where you sit.â
âThat was not a threat to your life,â you say, head tilting to look up at him. âYou would know if I had meant it as one; I would not have missed.â
âThey teach you to throw knives wherever it was you went after Hogwarts?â Tom says snidely.Â
He leans onto his desk, arms crossed. He waits for your reaction. He knows it is a soft spot for you, you almost always flinch at the very mention of the school. It is a low blow, but you had just thrown a knife at him. You deserved it.
And a reaction you give him, as you scowl at him, gone is the cocky attitude youâd had before.Â
You grab at the bag youâd brought in and dig inside, producing a golden necklace.Â
Tom recognizes it almost immediately.Â
âIt canât be,â he breathes, reaching for it, but you snatch it away with a tsk. He wears the same scowl youâd worn earlier, your expression now one of smugness.
âOh, Iâm sorry,â you say in a condescending tone. âI thought youâd want this rare, magical Time-Turner youâve mentioned before, but since you want to curse me instead, I think Iâll take my business elsewhere.â
You stand, moving to leave, but Tom blocks your path.Â
The Time-Turner was one of the magical items heâd been after. Heâd mentioned it to you before, offhandedly, not thinking youâd actually find one. He watches it sway in your hands, transfixed.Â
It is the last time he ever underestimates you again.Â
âName your price,â Tom tells you.
âWhat will you do with it?â You ask, feigning innocence to his question. You touch the precious metal with steady hands, toying with it like it wasnât a delicate instrument of time travel. One wrong move and you could suck yourself into another timeline.Â
Tom grimaces as you dangle it in the air. âCareful with that,â he warns.Â
âOh, do you think I donât know how to use it already?â you ask, almost offended.Â
âMy mistake,â Tom says, because he would be foolish to think that you hadnât tested it for yourself. His eyes find the delicate piece of vintage jewelry on your neck. âYouâve gone back in time for⊠a necklace?â
You touch at the necklace with a small gasp. âThis is not just any necklace, Tom. This is Cartier."
The name is not familiar with him, but it comes to no surprise. Tom had no interest in fashion, but you did, and the necklace seemed as valuable to you as the pocketwatch to Tom. You always did love a good designer brand.Â
âI said, name your price,â Tom repeats through his teeth. He wanted to hold it. He wanted it in his hands.Â
âYou know my fee. Double it.â
Tom doesnât think twice as he agrees.Â
You finally give it to him, and it feels heavy in his palm. The magic is practically dripping down his skin. It would do nicely upon his shelf with the other items heâd collected.
He is a little at odds with himself as he admires the object He knew you were good at finding things, but he had no idea you possessed the power to find something like this. The cursed objects you brought in were all prizes in and of themselves, but this was something Tom himself was actively seeking out.Â
And you had brought it right to him. He had only mentioned it maybe a few weeks ago. It had taken you two weeks to find it - Tom has been searching for it for months.Â
âWhere did you find it?â Tom asks curiously.
âThat is a secret,â You say.
Tom doesnât push. He hadnât answered your question, either. He has never revealed to your his master plans, he doesnât know why. He doesnât think youâd be against him, as you were from a pureblood family of your own. He keeps that part of his life a secret, but he has been thinking time and time again to recruit you. And this only further cements that idea.Â
You were good at finding things of value. Who knows what else you could bring him, if only he asked.
With a wave of your hand and a small bow, you bid him a goodbye.
Only, Tom stops you this time. He catches your arm as you head for the door, and your eyes widen when you meet his in surprise. He rarely touches you, if ever, only to do things like bumping you aside, removing your feet from his desk.Â
âI would like to properly thank you. Join me for dinner,â Tom finds himself saying. He wanted to know more behind your process of finding hidden objects. He had his methods, but yours have proven time and time again to be ten steps ahead of his own techniques.
You stare for a moment too long, and Tom drops his hand from your arm. He burns a little in embarrassment. Heâd gotten ahead of himself.Â
âAlright,â you agree after what seemed to be heavy consideration. âWhat time do you get off?â
â7pm. Meet me at Delucaâs at 8. Do not be late.â
âWhen have I ever been late?âÂ
Never, even if youâd show up dirty and half dead, you showed up at the promised times when a delivery was to be made.Â
âThereâs always a first time for everything,â Tom says.
âEver the optimist.â
âDo not make me change my mind. Delucaâs. 8 oâclock.â
âItâs a date,â you say, and you disapparate out of the shops before Tom can get another word out.
The rest of Tomâs shift drags on, slowly, painfully. He glances at the clock every ten minutes. It is hard to concentrate on anything at all the next few hours, his mind else where.Â
Delucaâs was a nice place. Heâd have an hour to apparate home, get ready, and be there on time.Â
He wonders what youâre going to wear as he polishes the display window. Heâs seen you in a few dresses, but this was different. You werenât simply stopping by to make a delivery; you were to be his guest at a fancy restaurant.Â
Youâd said itâs a date. It might as well have been, but Tom knows you hadnât meant it that way.
Still, he cannot help but sweat a little at the idea.Â
Tom has never been on a date, much less kissed anyone. He didnât have time for such things. Heâd never wanted anyone in that way before.
But then youâd showed up, one day, striding in with a cursed object youâd claimed to have found out of pure luck. It had been a slow descent down into madness, for Tom, after that. Heâd been hooked from the very first reunion. Your entire demeanor had completely shifted from when he knew you back at Hogwarts, he only saw glimpses of your old self during certain moments, quiet, drawn out sighs of exhaustion. Some days you were more of your older self, happier, even going as far as to joke with him. Other days, you were in a mood.Â
Like when you had thrown a knife at Tomâs head - he knew not to test you on those days.
Tom also wonders who heâll get tonight, as he finally makes it home. He showers, brushes his teeth, and changes into a suit more appropriate for tonights dinner. His date? Not a date. Whatever it was.
He arrives at Delucaâs with five minutes to spare.Â
Just from the outside, he was dazzled with the amount of magic that was poured into the place. The walls were shimmering, paintings of all kinds moving in the background, the ceiling a perfect picture of the night sky.Â
âYouâre early.â
Tom turns to find you there, and his stomach drops to the floor. The dress youâre wearing is mouthwatering, with skin showing in the right places, tight to the curves of your waist. It was primarily made of lace, a fabric you favored, having shown up to the shop multiple times wearing all different colors of lace tights beneath a well styled outfit. And it was his signature color, how could he not love it.Â
Though, you have shown up on multiple occasions in tattered clothes, ripped and stained with your blood, and he thinks you looked just as good as you did when you were more put together.Â
All in all, you could show up in a burlap sack and heâd think you looked stunning.
âYou lookâŠâ Tom stumbles over himself as he cannot find the right word. Nothing that came to mind seemed good enough.Â
âYou look good too, Tom,â you say knowingly, a teasing grin on your lips.Â
He swallows hard, defeated for the time being. He merely offers a nod and moves for the door, opening it for you and gesturing for you to enter the restaurant. Â
âSuch a gentleman,â you comment as you pass by him, giving him a small pat to the chest.Â
Inside, it was just as overwhelming. He smoothly tells the hostess he has a reservation, and you are seated a moment later, at the best table in the house.Â
âHow did you manage this?â you ask him in surprise.
He knew that you were aware of how hard it was to get a reservation to such a fine restaurant on short notice. It was the most sought after place to have dinner on this part of town, sometimes it took weeks just to get a table.
Tom doesnât tell you how that he hadnât needed to do much. The owner was a follower of his; all heâd had to do was merely ask.
âThat is a secret,â Tom says.
âIâm impressed.â
âDonât be,â he tells you. âIt was nothing. What you have done was far more impressive.â
You tilt your head at him, brows raised. âTom Riddle is impressed by me? What have I done to deserve such an honor?â you ask, again in the same condescending tone that has him narrowing his eyes.
âCareful, before I take back what I said.â
âCanât take it back, Tom. That isnât how things work.â
âI could merely obliviate you into forgetting.â
âObliviate me? Your favorite treasure hunter?â
Tom stiffens. He cannot deny it, because you were right. He watches you as you happily lean back into your seat, having won another round and rendering him speechless. He didnât like that you knew of his favoritism towards you. But here you two were, in the nicest restaurant in town, on an invitation he had extended to you. It was obvious. It was not every day Tom Riddle dinned with just anyone.
The waiter comes and takes your order before Tom can really fire anything back. Heâd already known what he was getting even before heâd arrived, and it seemed you did as well. You order two drinks without giving Tom room to deny it, and they arrive quicker than heâd been expecting.Â
Tom did not drink. It made him loose. Weak, and not on full alert. He was not fully in control of his senses and he had no interest in it.Â
But, he allows it anyways. He had no big plans the next day, or tonight. He was free. So he drinks. He has one, and you order two more drinks to the table before he can even think to say no.
On his third drink, Tom is thoroughly more drunk than he has ever been. He barely remembers eating.Â
The conversation had flowed with every drink he swallowed down. Heâd talked more about himself than he ever has with anyone; heâd told you about Hogwarts, his studies, his obsession with finding cursed objects that would one day be of use to him in war.
âWar?â you ask, relaxed in your seat. âWhat war?â
Toms mouth snaps shut when he realizes heâd almost said too much. He waves it off, quick to change the subject.Â
The restaurant was growing to be too loud, and disorienting. Things were flying over head every second. Voices were roaring with laughter in his ear.
âI wish to leave,â Tom announces after his fourth drink. He is still lucid enough to know where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. He is stunned at your beauty every time he looks at you. His heart jumps up with every point of eye contact, and holds it until you look away.
The bad thing about being drunk that Tom hadnât fully thought about, was that he was too drunk to apparate home. He hardly remembers how the conversation had gone, but he is suddenly being lead in a direction that is not familiar with him, every turn revealing a new part of the city he hadnât known about, until he ends up in front of a door. He has to grab hold of the wall to keep himself up right.
âWeâre almost there,â you tell him, just as drunk, fumbling with your wand to unlock the door.Â
And a moment later, Tom is sitting upon a couch, in a room he has never been in. It smelled like you in here. Like flowers, and leather, and the shampoo you used.Â
Tom blinks his eyes open, not realizing he had closed them, when you plop down beside him with another bottle of alcohol. He can only accept the chilled drink you hand to him, and he sips at it.
âI have not been this drunk in⊠I do not remember how long, actually,â you tell him, giggling.Â
His ears prick at the noise. He does not think heâs ever heard you giggle before.
âI have never been drunk before, ever,â he admits out loud.Â
This draws another giggle from your lips, and he absently smiles at that. He could live in that sound.Â
âYou never drank at Hogwarts?â
He shakes his head, blearily glancing to where youâre propped up to face him. âI never participated in such juvenile things. I had studying to do. Prefect duties. I could not⊠give in to childish drinking games.â
âThen youâve never played truth or dare drunk?â you gasp out, eyes lighting up with an idea. âOh, please, Tom, entertain me.â
He wants to shoot you down immediately, but you look happier in all of the months heâs known you. You have never worn such a smile, at least, heâs never seen it directed at him. Youâre glowing in the drunken state.Â
âOk, ok,â you say, sitting up further âTom, truth or dare?â
He scoffs out a sound of disbelief. âI am not -â
âPlease?â you beg. âI have not played since I was at Hogwarts.â
That draws Tomâs attention. You never brought up anything from Hogwarts. It is the first time heâs ever heard of anything you mentioning anything youâve done there, even if it was just about a stupid drinking game.
âBecause we are not children anymore,â Tom tells you. The light in your eyes dims, your smile dropping, and Tom sighs out heavily. Without thinking too hard on it, he mutters, âtruth.â
You make a noise of excitement, and then take a second to ponder on something to ask him. Tom would be as truthful as his drunken state allowed. âOh, I have one. What is the most embarrassing thing youâve ever done?â
Tom grimaces, because he knows. He tells you about when heâd first learned to ride a broomstick. He had been too cocky, having been the first one to get himself off the ground into the air, and then proceeded to fall and break his arm in front of the entire class. It had been one of his only slipup at Hogwarts.Â
The hearty laughter it rips from you is worth the temporary discomfort he feels at reliving the memory.
âAlright, alright,â Tom says after youâve had your laugh.
You chuckle out a few more sounds of enjoyment, wiping at your eyes to collect the moisture that had gathered there. âNow it is your turn,â you tell him.
Tom rolls his eyes. You were really going to make him say it.Â
âTruth or dare?â he asks you.
âHmm⊠Iâll choose truth,â you say. Tom catches himself from asking about your expulsion - that would surely ruin the mood. Instead, he repeats your same question, and you groan. âNo, Tom, you canât ask something Iâve already asked. Thatâs against the rules.â
âI was not aware there were rules in this game.â
âOh my god, just ask me something.â
âHow do you find the objects you bring into the shop?â he then asks, voicing what he truly wished to know. He is so curious about your methods. It is what he invited you to the restaurant to find out, after all. He might as well ask, even if he might be too drunk to remember your answer.
You sigh. âThat is so boring, bringing up work now. But if you must know, I do research. I read books upon books, but ultimately, it is intuition. Sometimes I just⊠know where it is. Words stand out. Locations on a map glow.â
Tom is fascinated by this. He wished to possess such an ability, but then you would become useless to him. And he liked that you served a purpose. That you had something that not everyone else had. He wanted you, so badly, in the moment. The space between you felt entirely too big. He unconsciously moves closer, his leg pressing into yours.Â
Your eyes drop down to the point of contact, but you do not bring it up as you go on to ask him, truth or dare.
âTruth,â he says.
âPredictable,â you moan, drawing an exasperated noise from Tom.
âDo you want me to play or not -â
âFine,â you snap, the frustration heâs grown to know appearing for a moment before your frown smooths over into a drunken grin. âHmm⊠have you ever had a crush before?â
âWhat are we, 13?â Tom huffs.Â
âJust answer the question.â
He sighs out in annoyance. He was growing tired of this game. But you were so into it, and with every question, it was like you were moving closer and closer.Â
Just as Tom goes to answer that no, he has never had a crush - your hand drops down to rest on his arm and his stomach flutters down into the couch cushions.Â
âYes,â Tom answers without meaning to. He immediately bites his tongue, and forces himself to take a long swig of his drink.Â
You gasp out, and your hand leaves him to wave excitedly in the air. âWho was it? Was it someone from Hogwarts?â
Forgetting the rules of the game for a moment in a drunken stupor, Tom tells you, yes. She had been from Hogwarts.
âDid I know her?â is your next question.
âYes,â he mutters, before he jerks back into his own head. He turns to scowl at you. âThat is not how the game is played, Y/n.â
âOh, Iâm sorry, but you have never opened up to me about anything before, and it is wonderful to talk to you,â you confess. âI⊠do not talk to anyone much these days anymore. It is quite hard, with what happened. It is like everyone knows who I am. Like at the restaurant.â
Tom sits up a little, sobering in the slightest at the dip of your tone. âWhat happened at the restaurant?â
âEveryone was staring at me,â you tell him, struggling a shoulder. âI am surprised they didnât kick us out.â
That is news to Tom - he must have been so enthralled with you that he hadnât even noticed anyone else. He feels of flood of anger for not realizing it, and putting a stop to it.Â
âI was not aware,â Tom says.
âItâs alright. I have grown used to it. A - anyways. It is your turn.â
The mood is heavier, less playful, as Tom asks you, truth or dare. It is no surprise that you choose truth. It was like you were both too scared to allow the other the true power of a dare. Truths seemed easier.Â
âDid you enjoy our⊠date?â Tom asks, using that word only because you had earlier, in hopes to lighten the mood. The last chug from his drink has also left him feeling a bit bold.
âThen, it was a date, after all?âÂ
Tom watches you for a paralyzing moment. He forces himself to take a steady breath. âDid you want it to be?â he questions, quiet, nervous. He shakily brings his drink to his lips and gulps down a mouthful, waiting for your reply.Â
You have him nearly shaking in his seat as you take a second to think on it, taking a sip of your own drink, setting it down, before turning to him with a poorly concealed grin. âThat is not how this game is played, Tom,â you say. âTruth or dare?â
âDare.â
Like you had been expecting it, youâre quick witted with saying, âkiss me.â
Tom does not know what happens to the glass in his hands. All he remembers is that he finally, finally, closes the distance between your bodies. The soft crooning noise you let out when he kisses you has a vicious pull tugging at his stomach. His hands trace lines of fire up your body, not sure if it was him or you shaking at the contact.Â
It must have been years since youâd felt the touch of another, and it showed, with how you melted into the palm of his hands. Tom folds just as easily when you bring your hand up to cup his face.
You both were drunk, and would most likely regret this come tomorrow morning. You would regret it, maybe, but to Tom, it is like you are bringing him another cursed object for him to have - but it was yourself, this time. The greatest treasure of them all. The object of his desires.Â
Every movement, every gnashing of teeth, is a little sloppy, drunken noises flowing between you two as Tom pushes you back into the couch.Â
You go willingly down onto your back, with Tom raising himself up to curl over your body. He steadies himself with a hand on the back of the couch, but even then he is a bit wobbly.Â
âHave wanted you,â Tom breathes out between a kiss, no need for a truth or dare to reveal his inner most thoughts. âFor months - since I saw you -â
Tom groans out a low sound when you cup him through his suit. He has never been so hard before, he has never been drunk before, both feelings so new and driving him wild. He trembles as you unbuckle his belt, drunken hands reaching into his boxers as he moves to press between your legs, beneath your dress. You both gasp out at the contact.Â
âI dare you to fuck me,â you whisper into his ear, stroking him at the same time as he rubs circles into your clit. Heâs breathing heavily into the crook of your neck, fighting to restrain himself, but at your words, he gives in. He was too drunk to think of the consequences. All he knew, was that you wanted him so desperately in that moment, and he was more than happy to comply with what he had been dared to do.
And Tom fucks you, right there on your couch, too carried away to notice your bed only feet away. He only wishes he wasnât so drunk so that he could remember more of it.
He is quick to remove his pants while you hike up your dress, and pull down your underwear. You both were heavily intoxicated, but your actions were fluid, Tom coming back to you and you welcoming him with outstretched arms. Your mouths meet in a blurred hole in Tomâs memories, not recalling the initial moment heâd first penetrated you, but he comes back in the middle of fucking into you with a passion so intense that he is sure he will remember once he is sober.Â
Your fervid moans of his name mix in with his own cries of your name, echoing off of your walls.Â
Tom does not know how much time passes, but every drunken minute is bliss, all up until the moment he comes with a bodily tremor that rips up his spine. He almost blacks out when you finish, his arms barely able to keep him up any longer. He crawls back onto the couch, breaths heavy, but he is at least able to pull his pants back up and rearrange himself before settling down.
He does not recall what happened next.
Tom assumes you both continued drinking, laughing into the night, because the next thing he knows, he wakes up with a pounding in his head.Â
He realizes all too quickly that he was not in his apartment. He sits up slowly, still a little drunk, squinting at the brightness of the morning.Â
So he had ended up on the bed, after all. Your sleeping body laid next to his.Â
In that moment, Tom feels a singular strike of panic ignite in his chest.Â
He had just crossed a line with you that he had never even thought was possible. He never thought anything would ever happen with you, because he had known himself. Or, he had known what sober him wouldâve done; which was nothing. Drunk Tom hadnât been made aware that he was not supposed to have sex with you. He was not supposed to give into what he had been truly desiring.
Furthering your relationship would only cause problems in the future. Tom didnât want problems to arise between you. Your work relationship functioned as it should. You brought him things of use, not much was said, and that was that.Â
Tom brings a hand to your cheek, and runs it down the length of your skin. He would remember that night forever. It would haunt him in the quiet moments of the day.
Without waking you, or leaving word, Tom gathers his things, and apparates home.Â
His chest is sunken in with dread within the days that follow. He does not hear from you, or see you, at all, for a month. He cannot imagine how youâd felt waking to an empty apartment.Â
No deliveries are made. No letters in the mail promising youâd be there on a certain day, at a certain time.
It is not until another few weeks pass that you come by, only it is not as smooth as past visits.
Tom is tidying up in the front, rearranging shelves to display new items, when a crashing in the back has him going still. It could be a number of things, but none of them were good. He is quick to lock the entrance, and slowly makes his way towards the source of the noise with his wand raised.Â
A groan comes from within the room.
In the corner, you are laying in a heap of crushed boxes and broken glass. It was only you, making a crash landing from escaping another quest by the skin of your teeth. He lowers his wand.Â
You have done this before, this kind of crash landing. Only, this time, youâre not quick to get up and dust yourself off with a laugh. This time, you remain where you lay.
âY/n?â Tom slowly comes closer, wand to the ready.Â
You were a hunter of cursed objects, it could be that one got ahold of you. He is cautious as he crouches down to inspect you further. His stomach drops when he spots a blooming patch of red across your side. It is a heavy shock to his system, because it is the first time he has seen you in almost two months, and you are bleeding out into the wreckage of ruined boxes. It is so different to how heâd left you.
âThat hurt,â you manage with a weak croak.Â
It didnât seem like you were possessed, so Tom drops his wand to use both hands to lift you up with ease. His stomach swims at the close proximity, but he pushes that aside. You were hurt. You needed aid.
Shrapnel falls as he carries you over to his desk, where he sets you down carefully in his chair. You smack at his hands when he attempts to peel back your coat.Â
Tom huffs. âLet me see.â
âNo,â you groan. âIâm fine. The cursed object is in my pocket, let me just -âÂ
A pained cry slips from your mouth when you move to reach into your pocket, forcing you back into the chair. Tom waits for an agonizing moment for you to finally meet his eyes, and gesture for him to continue.Â
When he exposes the injury to the air, Tom sucks in a sharp breath. A jagged wound was cut deep into your side, bleeding heavily into the materials of your torn shirt. A curse had done this.Â
Someone had dared to curse you.Â
Tom shakes from anger, but he cannot think on it too long. âWait here,â he tells you.
âDonât think I have much of a choice,â comes your mumbled reply.
There is a small bathroom where Tom gathers towels and a bowl of water which he heats till its steaming. The water in the bowl sloshes around from how quickly he moves back to where youâre barely clinging to consciousness, the bloody wound an angry red against the monotone of the shop.Â
âKeep still.âÂ
Tom makes quick work of cleaning the wound of the dirt and blood. It is still bleeding heavily, but heâd cleaned it mostly of the black ash that had been smeared into your skin. He brings his wand up to the wound, movements careful, stitching the gash together back as gently as he can. Youâre biting into your knuckles to keep from passing out.Â
When the injury has been healed, then only does Tom sit back and watch you carefully. He is waiting for what you say next. He isnât sure where to go from here, but he knew you needed rest. He did not know where you lived, too drunk to remember, and you were in no state to teleport yourself home. It is a wonder youâd made it back here at all.Â
âThanks,â you say after a heavy moment of breathing through the pain. âI should⊠leave.â
âAnd go where?â Tom stops you with a hand to your shoulder. You wince, but allow him to gently push you back into the chair. âYou cannot walk. You cannot apparate alone.â
âThen what do you suggest I do? You do not know where I live,â you say, then quieter, âI donât have anywhere else to go.â
Tom makes a decision, in that split second of you glancing up at him in agony. âThen we will go to my place,â he says, leaving no room for you to disagree as he stands.Â
âWhat?â you blurt out, but heâs already left your side.
Locking up the shop takes all but 2 minutes. He leaves the display cases undone - he would come in early tomorrow to finish up.Â
âTom, I donât think -â your weak protests are silenced as he throws you a look over his shoulder. You sigh out, and slump back into the chair.Â
When Tom is ready, he is slow to help you to your feet. He has to sling your arm over his shoulder, and keep it pressed firmly into your waist. He feels a sting of possessiveness over you when you unexpectedly grab hold of his arm. He would kill whoever had hurt his treasure hunter.
Apparating home is quick, but the spell has you nearly crashing into the floor again if Tom hadnât kept you upright. Youâre the weakest, and most vulnerable Tom has ever seen you; has seen anyone. Heâs never helped anyone in need before. He simply didnât care for it.Â
But this was⊠different. You werenât another nobody wizard that fell at his feet. You were an outcast, a reject from wizard society. You have been the closet anyone has ever gotten to Tom. And youâve helped him in more ways than you will ever know. It was his turn to finally help you.
If you let him.
âI can do it myself,â you grunt out when Tom tries to help you walk. He is frustrated to no end, but you had to learn yourself, he supposes.Â
When he lets go of you, your balance is immediately thrown off. Tom is quick to steady you when you sway on your feet. You mutter out a string of curse words that he ignores as he leads you to the bathroom.Â
You were still covered in soot, and whatever else you had dragged into his pristine home. You were not allowed in his bed unless you were clean. The wound would hold up under water, but he had to be careful not to move you too quickly. It could just as easily tear open again.Â
âI can bathe myself,â you snap when Tom has finished running a hot bath. You were not steady enough to stand on your own two feet without a hand holding you, but sitting in a tub was easy.Â
Tom is startled that youâre acting so⊠well, so rude. He is offering you aid, and you are treating him like scum for doing so. His eye twitches in irritation. He supposes it is only fair for how heâd left you, two months ago.
âHave it your way,â Tom mutters, flicking water into the tub after he had made sure it wasnât too hot.
When you move to undress, Tom goes completely still. He watches as you unbutton your blouse to reveal the black lacy bra underneath. Even on a quest where you could die, you were dressed to the nines.
The tips of his ears flush as he is quick to look away. âI will⊠leave you to it,â Tom says.Â
Tom does not go far. He sits outside of the bathroom in case you fell, and needed his help. He sits and listens as you stand, the splash of water when you get in the tub, and the gentle swishing of water as you clean yourself. He waits until you call out his name.Â
Popping a head into the bathroom, nervous in his own home, Tom finds you curled up in the tub. The water was murky with blood and dirt.
âCould I get a towel, and some clothes?â You ask, adding on a quiet, âplease,â as an after thought.
With a wave of his wand, Tom sets a clean towel and a stack of clothes on the sink. He returns to his spot on the floor, waits and listens as you stand, dry yourself off, and slowly, ever so slowly, dress yourself. It takes quiet a while and Tom couldâve done it for you with magic, but he guesses you wanted some form of control in this new environment.Â
Youâre waiting for him on the edge of the tub when Tom comes back into the room, after youâve called him in once more.Â
âI cannot stand much longer,â you admit, voice warbled around the edges. He could see you were losing strength. You must be exhausted from the blood loss. âI am so dizzy, it is a miracle I dressed myself.â
The intimacy of having you in his apartment makes Tom feel strange as he guides you to his bed. Heâs never had anyone over before; heâs never even helped anyone before. He had tried his hardest to be gentle, but he was as gentle as a sharp edge on a table that you bump with your hip. He wasnât made for softness. He was a hardened force fated to take over the world. He didnât know what he was doing with you here, easing you into his bed.
âSilk sheets,â you comment absently. âOf course Tom Riddle has silk sheets.â
âThey are optimal for the best sleep. Sleep is important.âÂ
âI think so too, and I do not own silk sheets.â
âNo,â Tom agrees. âBut you do own far more clothes and accessories than I do, when you could spend the money on something more useful.âÂ
You frown at him. âWhat is more useful than a good outfit? Iâll have you know, certain pairs of clothes have saved my life on quests. Do not doubt a well put together uniform.â
Tom does not have it in him to carry on such a useless conversation. You must be on the borderline of delirium, with how many words youâve spoken to him despite still being mad at him.Â
He apparates into his kitchen to grab a glass of water, before appearing at your side again. He pushes the glass into your hands. âDrink. Youâve lost a lot of blood.â
âIt is not the worst injury I have sustained,â you inform him, but drink the glass down ravenously.Â
He cannot think of anything worse than the large gash across your ribs. Anything worse, especially if youâd treated it alone, wouldâve cost you your life. Tom burns with anger at the thought of you alone, bleeding out, having to take care of yourself on the verge of death. It was hard to think about, but you were probably used to dealing with such things alone.Â
âThank you, Tom,â you say once he has brought you another glass. You drink it slower this time, contemplating, as he watches from the foot of the bed heâs settled on. âI⊠am not used to help. It is strange that I am being treated this way, especially from -â
Tom knows you were about to say, especially from him.Â
Like you, he had a reputation. He knows what others think of him. He never let it get to him, as he knew none of their words truly mattered. Not when he had his plans. He was the Slytherin head boy, cold and calculating. He was highly favored by his teachers, but he had no real friends or relationships to speak of.Â
Tom remembers you, before youâd been expelled. You had been so different compared to the husk of a person you are now. Youâd been happy, bright eyed, wanting to make a difference in the wizarding world. He remembers you were always wickedly smart in any of the classes you two had. But the person you were died along with Myrtle Warren. Youâd been the one who found her, so naturally you were accused of doing such a thing.Â
Rumor spread fast. Youâd been labeled a murderer, and cast out of school merely a few days later. Your reputation had been ruined, and nothing could repair it. Not even your innocence.Â
Tom knew it wasnât you, but unlike the other few students who believed you had nothing to do with it, he had proof, because it had been his fault sheâd been killed.Â
Now, you were cold. Angry. Kept everyone at a distance, just like Tom did. He saw himself in you, after youâd been cast out. Alone. He wonders if maybe he was the closest thing you had to a friend, although he didnât know much of your life outside of work. Maybe you did have others, than just Tom at Borgin and Burkes.
âI owe you, I suppose,â Tom says. He takes the glass once youâve finished it, and you tuck further into the mattress. Your eyelids grow heavy, head resting into the pillow. Tom is almost kind in the way he brings the blankets up to cover your chest. His apartment got cold at night. He didnât want you to get sick. âRest.â
Tom moves to leave, but he freezes in place when youâve grabbed hold of him. He turns, expecting a request for another glass of water, but he is surprised to find that youâve already fallen asleep. He glances down at your hand holding his; you had done it unconsciously.Â
He sits down on the bed, allowing you to hold his hand until the sunrises. He does not move. He thinks that maybe you needed it, the contact. Skin on skin. Maybe he needed it too, but he pushes that thought away as quick as it comes. He watches you sleep throughout the night, whenever you stir, drawing his attention from the book heâd picked up.Â
You do not wake until the sunrises.Â
The first beams of light hit your face, seeping in from the curtains Tom hadnât had a chance to draw. He hears the first deep breath you take upon regaining consciousness, and he prepares himself for what lies ahead.Â
Your hand rips from his and you sit up in alarm, scrambling up against the headboard. The sudden movement must pull at your still healing wound, as you hiss out a low sound of pain.
âCalm down,â Tom snaps. âYou are safe.â
Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you squint at Tom in the soft morning light of his apartment. Your hand touches at the healed wound. Like him when heâd woken at your apartment, you recall the events that lead up to you waking up in Tomâs apartment - Borgin and Burkes, Tom bringing you here, helping you.Â
Your chest rises and falls with a deep breath, and you settle against the headboard in surrender. âI remember now,â you murmur, almost ashamed.Â
Tom can see youâve begun to start shaking, and he feels an edge bite into him. He didnât want you to be uncomfortable. Waking up here must feel incredibly awkward. Receiving aid from the very one who had hurt you, not long ago.
âYou are free to leave,â Tom says. âI am not keeping you prisoner.â
You nod shyly, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.Â
After no attempt is made to leave on your part, Tom pops into the kitchen, and returns a moment later with another glass of water. He shouldâve hydrated you more last night, but two glasses of water seemed all you could handle before youâd fallen asleep. He forces you to drink two more glasses before he tells you to sit tight, and donât move, as he apparated to the store to pick up things for breakfast.Â
When he returns, you are indeed in the same spot. He hadnât meant it literally, but it seems youâd taken it that way.Â
Only when he unpacks the ingredients do you quietly get up to use the restroom. Tom stops what heâs doing to make sure youâre able to get there on your own, hypervigilant of your light footsteps, wobbly but otherwise fine.Â
Once youâre out of the restroom and back in bed, Tom continues. He was waiting for another crash. Another call of his name. It hadnât come.
You move with a certain timidness that has Tom a little on edge. Youâve been watching him, skittish, like he is going to kick you out for breathing too loudly.Â
Tom finishes breakfast with a quick wave of his wand, serving up a pile of eggs and bacon, and a side of toast. It feels incredibly domestic, incredibly odd, as he sits across from you at his dinning table he doesnât think heâs ever used. Not even once. He didnât entertain guests, and he ate all his meals outside of the house.
Not much is said other than your gentle thank youâs, more subdued and willing to accept his help than the day before. He can see that your fork is trembling in your grasp with every raise and fall of it to your mouth.Â
âWhat happened?â Tom finally asks, once youâve cleared your plate, still across from him. Heâs been wanting to know since youâd apparated into the shop.Â
He needed to know who heâd be hunting down.
âI was attacked,â you supply dryly. When Tom clenches his fist, you go on hurriedly, âI think they were following me. I mustâve tipped them off, somehow when I had passed through a town, and when I got close enough, they started firing at me. Iâd just managed to retrieve the item before Iâd been hit.â
âAnd what is it that you nearly died for?â Tom uses his wand to pick up your coat, and finds a small piece of something tucked away in the coat. He motions for it to be brought to him, and once it finds its way into his hands, he is struck by a cold grip wrapping around his heart.Â
It had been another cursed object he had been looking for.
Youâd been hunting it for Tom. It is why youâd gotten hurt. He hadnât known youâd actually go looking for it, much less find it. It was highly sought after. No wonder youâd nearly died for it. He had told you about it that night before heâd left you in your apartment, alone, and itâs taken you months to find it. Following up on leads, tracing down passages of it written in books. He would never fail to be surprised at your abilities.
Tom looks up at you, not knowing what to say.
Your eyes are down, unable to meet Tomâs gaze that holds a rare moment of emotion. He is a little choked up that youâd go to such lengths for him, even after he had abandoned you. He has admirers, followers who would worship the ground he walked on, but none of them mattered. They were all below him. None of them held even a flame to his powers.
But you, it was like you were on his level. Your magic, your smarts, everything. It is a shame youâd been expelled from Hogwarts. You wouldâve made a fine Auror.
âYouâve proven yourself of use to me, time and time again,â Tom says, after gathering himself. âAnything you wish, ask for it, and I will provide.â
You give a somber laugh. âUnless you can change my past, then there is nothing I want from you, Tom.â
âThere must be something you want.â
âI want⊠companionship,â you say, head shaking a moment later at the pitiful request. âI - I donât know. There is nothing I want.â
Youâd said companionship - Tom could provide that, to some degree. It is exactly what he had been running from when heâd left that morning, but it seems that it has found him yet again. And he could not turn you away this time.
âStay with me,â Tom tells you, and only then do you look up. He can see youâre going to shoot him down, so he adds on, âjust for a few days, until youâre fully recovered. Then you may leave if you wish.â
You think on it for a second, before agreeing.Â
Those few days are the strangest, and most wonderful time Tom has had maybe in all of his life. Youâre there from the moment he wakes, to when he goes to bed. Youâre there waiting for him when he comes home from work, and you greet him with a shy smile that he unwittingly returns. He has always found peace in his solitude, but he is almost excited to get off work with every passing day, knowing youâll be in his bed reading.Â
The first day heâd arrived home from work, he is almost startled to find you still there. He had nearly forgotten. It is a delightful surprise when he apparates home, and youâve just emerged from the kitchen with an apple between your lips. Youâre both shocked frozen, until Tom takes off his jacket, and you ask about his day.Â
Routine falls into play, after the first tense, almost timid first day and night.Â
Another thing - Tom didnât have anywhere else to sleep. His couch was too small to fit on comfortably, and he valued his sleep. He would not force himself to sleep on something so uncomfortable. Heâd been in a strange dilemma with himself, almost regretting the offer to have you stay, when youâd patted the space next to you on the bed that first night. Inviting Tom to come sleep on his own bed. He was thrown by your almost cute gesture for him to join you.Â
Both of you were adults. It was possible to sleep in a bed together without anything out of the ordinary happening.Â
Only, something did happen, but Tom hadnât spoken of it the next day and neither had you. And it happened every night since youâd started sleeping in his bed.Â
Tom was never big on any kind of physical touch with anyone, heâd been disgusted by even the smallest touches, but in the middle of the night, youâd scooted up against him. He had woken immediately at the feeling of your warm body against his. He figured you were cold from how chilly his apartment got. Tom was a person who slept on his back, finding that it was the best position, usually with an arm thrown over his eyes to block out the little light that came into his apartments.Â
Youâd taken the opportunity to then lay your head on his chest, your arm coming to rest on his waist.Â
Again, he hadnât slept. At least, for the first hour youâd cuddled up against him. His body was pumped full of adrenaline at the weight of anotherâs head upon his chest, the feel of your hair tickling his nose. He shouldâve pushed you off; you were effecting his sleep. But he eventually drifted off, and when heâd come to in the morning, he felt as though heâd gotten some of the most effective sleep heâd ever had.Â
Strange.Â
It was all so strange to him, these new found feelings at every turn with you.Â
Tom wondered if he was the only one feeling it. Surely it wasnât just in his head.Â
And on the 5th day youâve been staying there, it is made known to him exactly how much he wanted you to stay, when youâd brought up going home.Â
âI have been here for a while,â you tell him after dinner. Heâd been cooking everyday since youâve been staying with him. He actually had food in the fridge, fruits on the counter. It was a stark difference to the fridge merely being there for decoration. âIâm healed enough where I can be on my own. I think it is best if I⊠leave.â
Tom unintentionally swallows what heâd been chewing before he was finished with it, and for a moment, it gets caught in his throat. He has to sip a mouth full of water to keep himself from choking on it. He sets the glass down slowly, trying to come up with a reason, anything, for you to stay. He had grown used to you being there. It hadnât even been a week, but he wouldnât have minded if you were there for another. And another. Possibly forever.Â
He did not want to go back to how things had been for the last two months. No word on if you were alive or dead.
âUnless,â you say apprehensively, bringing his fiery glare up from scorching a mark into the table. âI could, perhaps, stay a little longer?â
In order not to give himself away, Tom has to force himself to pause for a moment and not jump to agree right away. He pretends to think it over, watching how you anxiously press your lips together in a line, your hands coming up to nervously pick at the table, before he accepts.Â
âI suppose you could stay,â Tom says in a nonchalant manner, even though his heart is a volcano erupting inside of his chest. The possibilities this could bring; more nights of you sleeping against him, days where youâve already prepared dinner him when he comes home, mornings where you both agree only five more minutes just to curl up with each other and drift off again.Â
âReally?â you exclaim, startling Tom as he raises his fork to his mouth. He blinks at you in surprise at your outburst. Heâs amused when you shrink back, embarrassed, that youâd reacted in such a way. It is like you hadnât expected him to agree in the slightest. âI - I mean, um. Thank you.â
Tom gives a terse nod, before going back to his food. A small smile plays at his lips.
DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE TO SEE ALL THINGS WTS (reviews, commentary, updates, reblogs about the series). OR... head over to THE COMMON ROOM to join my community and feel free to discuss this series as well as many others.
Y/N and Peter Parker have already lost a lot of important people in their lives, causing them to build emotional walls around themselves to protect against the pain from experiencing the hurt that comes with yet another loss.
Two broken people can only do two things to each other:
Either they heal each other.
Or break each other even more.
PART I: WORTH THE RISK
PART II: WORTH THE TEARS
PART III: WORTH THE WAIT
PART IV: WORTH THE PAIN
PART V: WORTH IT ALL
[â ïžïžTHIS SERIES HAS A RATING OF 17+. ONLY 17 AND ABOVE MAY PROCEED TO READ.]
Each part has specific warnings written before the start. Please be warned before proceeding to read. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
Moodboards, feedback, memes, tiktoks, commentary, etc. about the series are greatly appreciated. Please use the official series tag and mention me so I can see it!Â
in regard to me FINALLY cross-posting my fanfics on wattpad and ao3, the first in line is my tasm!peter parker hit series i published here on tumblr years ago.
WORTH: THE SERIES IS NOW CROSS-POSTED ON WATTPAD AND AO3! but thereâs a twistâŠ
thatâs right! instead of it being an âx reader,â i turned it into a tasm!peter parker x original female character story. but donât worryâif you still prefer reading it with yourself as the main character, the series will stay as a tasm!peter parker x reader here on tumblr. this way, readers who prefer an original character version can enjoy the series without being bothered by the words ây/nâ and âl/nâ.
if youâre confused, check out this post.
if you decide to read this new version, the first chapter of the story will include a cast list, which is basically the actors i had in mind while writing the characters in this series. if you want to see who i pictured for carlos, charlene, and mac/mitchell, then go ahead!
hi! i just want to let you all know that i'm in the process of cross-posting my tumblr works on wattpad and ao3. i realized sharing my fics on multiple platforms helps more people enjoy them. that said, there will be some key differences between what i post where. if you want all the detailsâmy fic release schedule, the characters I write for, or rules for requesting a ficâcheck out the station, my masterpost for everything you need to know about my fan fiction writing endeavors.
my fic release schedule, which is a new thing iâve created, is quite confusing, so iâm also going to include it here in this announcement post. just click âkeep readingâ if youâd like to know.
my character x character pairing fics will be exclusively available on ao3 and wattpad (but with release date schedule differences). HOWEVER, as usual, all x reader fics will stay exclusively on this app. if you want an x oc version of those fics, head to wattpad and ao3. if this is confusing, let me break it down for you.
đ FIC RELEASE SCHEDULE:
đTUMBLR (@slytherheign):
character x reader fics (with 1 week advance in release date than wattpad and ao3)
one-shot fics (will stay as an âx readerâ and will EXCLUSIVELY be available here in tumblr)
đAO3 (@slytherheign):
character x character fics (with 1 week advance in release date than wattpad)
character x original character version of my character x reader multichapter fics (1 week later than tumblr release date)
đWATTPAD (@slytherheign):
character x original character version of my character x reader multichapter fics (1 week later than tumblr release date)
character x character fics (1 week later release date than ao3)
đ IMPORTANT NOTES:
i will still be only taking requests from my tumblr account.
all fic updates, fic events, fic milestone celebrations, author-reader Q&As will be posted on my tumblr community.
the only character x character pairing i am writing about right now is polin (colin/penelope) from bridgerton.
the reason iâm doing this is because i want to spread my fics onto different platforms and the fic release dates difference is so that people will want to visit my other writing platforms and support me there as well. i also want to be friends with more people. <3
i'm also thrilled to inform you all that i sometimes pick one-shots from my tumblr exclusives and turn them into a series that will be available on ao3 and wattpad only. as usual, I will then turn the reader into an oc for those lucky fics, and i will need your help with some decisions such as the oc's name, face claim, and possible change in plot direction. you just have to join my tumblr community if you want to participate and help me out!
