3: confession (c.c.)

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imagine:
tom riddle confesses 😳
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You were minding your own business in the library, finishing a pile of undone homework from the past few weeks. It was quite stressful for you to balance both quidditch and your academic to the point where quidditch slowly became your first priority. Now that the season have ended, you had a lot of catching up to do.

Behind the bookshelves stood Tom Riddle, watching your every move through the little gaps between the books. His anxiety slowly consumed him, but being the cold, heartless teenager he is, it was easy for him to manipulate his own feelings. It was ironic though, the sole purpose of him even there being to confront what seems to be weakening him.

You.

As painful as it was to even feel for the boy, he knew maybe, just maybe, it would benefit him. Teach him a lesson, perhaps. Or close himself from the world even more than he did before. Or maybe, make him feel... loved.

"Y/N," he uttered, coming out of the shadows of the bookshelf. You were too concentrated on finishing your assignments that you had completely shut your senses from the world. He muttered your name again, hoping you'd at least pause what you were doing at that moment.

Fortunately, your hands slowly resisted when you heard a familiar voice saying your name. You turned around to see a familiar face you saw on a daily basis in Slughorn's classes.

"Tom!" you smiled tiredly, dropping your pen. "What brings you here?"

"Noth- are those... your assignments?" he asked as he walked closer, examining the amount of work you had missed. He felt sympathy for you, but at the same time he knew you deserved it. He was never fond of sports and would always prioritise academics first.

"Yea, all 'cus of quidditch," you sighed, glancing back at your desk, "I'm thinking of quitting quidditch soon, it's bringing me nowhere anyway."

"That would be wise."

"Indeed it would," you replied, cracking one last smile at him before going back to the books. However, something told you there was more to why he approached you. After all, Tom Riddle never liked small talk.

"So... Anything you wanna talk about?" you shrugged, staring into his lost blue eyes. He seemed a little lost, vulnerable. Tom bit his lip, hesitating to spill his deep emotions but he knew it was the only way. He couldn't let it consume him.

"I might have... feelings," he softly uttered under his breath. This was the first time you had ever seen him shy. Tugging onto his robe from the inside, his gaze went back to your e/c eyes. "for you."

Your eyes widened as you choked a surprised laugh. You stuttered your words; you were quite confused and shocked. It was never like Tom to confess like that, so he was either playing a prank on you or just messing with your feelings.

"There's no way you're serious," you chuckled.

"What if there is?" Tom asked, his voice cracking. Immediately, he cleared his throat, embarrassed by his vulnerability.

"Tom, you're mistak-"

"Fucking hell, I think I'm in love with you," he cussed angrily as he grabbed your face aggressively, forcing eye contact. As he realised what he was doing, Tom slowly backed away, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. He stood frozen, feet away from you and took one last glance into your e/c eyes before taking off into the dark.

All you could do was sit still, not moving a limb. Your eyes wouldn't look back to the desk anymore; you felt stupid. You let out a small, exhausted sigh before stuffing your textbooks into your worn out, leather back, hoping at least that could get your mind off what happened between you and Tom.

As you walked back to the Slytherin common room, you felt a presence stalking you. You smiled at the thought of introverted Tom Riddle head over heels for you. Maybe you did like him too.

"Tom, you can come out now," you chuckled, turning your head back to see Tom Riddle revealing himself from the dark, narrow corridors. He awkwardly brushed his hair, biting his lips.

"I wasn't stalking you, just so you know," he said in a monotone. "I was heading the same direction."

"What were you expecting me to say when you confessed?" you asked, crossing your arms.

He came closer to you, smiling. "Anything but a rejection."

"I'm not rejecting you, Tom. I'd never."

A tension between the two of you gradually built up the longer the silence went on. You desperately wanted him to say something-something that could change what the two of you currently had. But that was way out of his character. The man was incapable of love, until now.

He moved his feet closer to you, gently caressing your hand. As his face drew closer to yours, you felt his hot breath tingling against your neck. The tension made you feel light-headed, forcing you to push him away, but it only drew him closer. He firmly grabbed your waist, not letting you move an inch, as he pulled you into a deep, sensual kiss.

"You're mine," he uttered as the both of you pulled away, gasping for air.

"I don't know about that," you smirked.

"I'm not giving you a choice, love."

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