#imagineitup

request : Can u do something for young TomR where y/n died during a battle bc of him and Tom tries to talk to her spirit bc he misses her a lot and he just needs to see her?

masterlists

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He clutches the stone in his palms, his heart heavy.  He knows it isn’t real.  But he’s tired of talking to the small oil portrait that repeats the same phrases over and over again because he knows that isn’t really you.  You’re not all there.

His fingers squeeze the stone, and he feels a chill creep across his bones, a silvery mist escaping into the air.  It grows larger until suddenly he sees you standing in front of him.  And you’re exactly the same.  The same eyes.  Same stature.

But your face is so empty.

“(Y/N)?”  And he hates how his voice sounds so soft.  “Speak to me,” he says harshly, already hating the way it sounds to his ears.  But he doesn’t apologize.

You take a step forward.  “I’m so proud of you.”

He lets your words wash over him, but he can’t quench that unfamiliar guilty feeling wrenching itself in between his ribs.    

You’re reaching out to touch his face, but he doesn’t feel warmth.  Only the chill that comes from a ghost.  Something supernatural, magical.

“Come with me, Tom.”

Tom snaps up.  “What?”

You tilt your head.  “Come with me.  I miss you.”

And the scary thing is that Tom wants so badly to obey.  He wants to go with you.  He wants to hold you again, god.  But something in the back of his mind flares up, and he steps away, eyes cold.  “You’re not (Y/N).”

And he swears he sees a flicker of anger in your eyes. But it’s so faint, and after a while, he thinks you just look sad.  “You’re not him.”

“Of course I’m me.”

You blink.  “Tom would’ve followed me everywhere.”

“Fuck, I killed you!”  He’s furious, eyes blazing.  “I watched you die because I did it.  I murdered you, and I didn’t care!”

It’s not entirely the truth.  He’d cast a spell, and you’d gotten in the way.  Stumbled right in front of his wand.  And he watched, horrified, as you fell to the ground, dead.

“Then make it right.  Come with me.”

He’s so blinded.  And he realizes that he hasn’t seen you smile once.  And you’re so cold.  So blank.  “You’re a fraud.”  He spits.  “You just want me dead.”

He clenches the stone in his hands and throws it.  He kicks the ground and punches the wall beside him and does it again, and again.

His hand burns like hell, and he’s bleeding around his knuckles, but he doesn’t care.

He sees your portrait sitting on his nightstand and he sees you smiling, dancing around the sunflowers.  That’s all you ever do.

He hears your voice as you wave through the canvas.  “Love you,” you laugh, still whirling.

summary :Newt’s stolen your blanket, and it’s freezing. 

masterlists

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You pad over to Newt’s hammock, shivering.  You shake his shoulders, hiding your smile as soft snores escape his mouth, and then at the wary, exhausted look when he opens his eyes again.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut again, “not morning.”

You can’t stop the smile this time, and you shrug sheepishly.  “Some shuck-face stole my blanket.”

Newt raises an eyebrow, still not entirely awake.  “Steal it back.”

You smirk, tugging at the woolen blanket covering his form.

He opens an eye, grip tight against his blanket, no, your blanket, and sighs.  “Love, it’s freezing.”

You laugh, albeit a bit too loud, and a nearby glader kicks at your leg.  “Then scoot over.”

Newt grumbles, falling back asleep.  

“Newt.”

He opens both eyes, “I didn’t forget the muffins.”

“Of course you didn’t.  Now move, please.”

He blinks, then rolls over to the side.

You whisper a quiet ‘thank you’, while carefully laying down on the hammock, relishing in the warmth of the blanket.

It’s now that you realize the two of you are quite close, and you swallow, rethinking your earlier decision.  “Newt --”

The same soft snores falling from his mouth.  He’s out.

You smile, then close your eyes, tucking the blanket up to your chin.

You wake up to sunlight, and then to sudden warmth.  You’re snuggled against Newt’s side, and you look up, seeing his stunned expression.

Newt blinks, then smirks.  “Morning, love. Comfortable?”  His hair’s tousled and voice raspy from sleep.

It’s your turn to flush, and you pull the blanket over your face.  “Sorry --”

Newt pulls the blanket from your face, smiling.  “Don’t be.  I don’t mind.”

You sigh, reluctantly, still not meeting Newt’s gaze.  “I’m gonna go.”

But he nudges you in the side, eyes soft.  “You don’t have to.”

You blink.  “What?” “It’s freezing outside.”

“So I’ll take the blanket,” you tease, making the motion to leave.

“Wait --” Newt sits up, “don’t go.”

You frown at him.  “Don’t go?”

Newt looks at you, softer.  “It doesn’t have to mean anything.  You’re just really warm.”

You blink.  “Do you want it to mean something?”

Newt laughs quietly.  His laughter fades, and then he simply smiles, although it seems nearly sad.  “I’ve been flirting with you for months.  And I don’t think you feel the same.”  He turns aside, realization hitting him.  “I’m being selfish.  You should go.”

You widen your eyes.  “You’ve been flirting with me … for months?”

Newt’s eyes narrow and he turns back around.  “What.”

“You’ve been flirting with me for months?  You should’ve said something!”

Newt falls back against the hammock, fully exasperated.  “You’re joking.”

You shake your head, falling back against him, and pressing a kiss to his cheek.  “I’m not.”

Newt laughs again, this time much happier, and he leans his head against yours.  “So you’ll stay?”

“Five minutes.”

request : Hey there, I really love your fanfics! I have a request to make if you like that’s a Tom Riddle x Reader where the reader is the Heir of Ravenclaw or a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw at least (it doesn’t have to be Ravenclaw) and Tom Riddle meets her one day and finds out who she is and he starts to catch feelings for her.

a/n : i’m so sorry it took so long but i hope you enjoy!

masterlist

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It isn’t the first time Tom’s seen someone try to talk to Helena Ravenclaw.  The Grey Lady.  No one leaves successful, though.  In fact, it’s rather the opposite, really.  He’s seen students stumble back out the alcove in tears, faces blanched with fear, trembling because she’s flown through them and now it feels like ice, ice, ice. 

And he laughs.  Bitterly.  No one, except for him, has ever talked to Helena Ravenclaw and gotten away with it.  He wears it like a prize, parading around the castle.  He’s superior, and he makes sure people know it. 

Yet this time, this time is different.  He hears the whispering of voices first, senses the chill creeping through his body from the presence of a ghost.  He lingers by the entrance, hand against stone, eyes narrowed curiously toward the faint light. 

He sees you.  And you’re talking with the Grey Lady as if it were normal.  Natural. 

What’s even stranger is that Helena Ravenclaw makes no move to run away.  Her form seems more solidified, her face less reserved.  

When he looks at you again, he blinks.  Maybe it’s in the eyes, the form of your face, maybe the stony, regal stature.  But in that quick, mere second, he knows.  He knows it’s you. 

Descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw, herself. 

He catches you the next night before you walk into the alcove.  He leans against the stone wall, arms hanging loosely.  And he smirks. 

“What’s your secret?”

You blink.  “Huh?”

He unpeels himself from the wall, standing in front of you, eyes glinting.  “What’s special about you, heir of Ravenclaw?”

“Lots of things.”

Tom raises an eyebrow, the same smirk gracing his lips.

“Procrastination.  A sleep debt of ten years.  You know.”

He doesn’t expect it when he laughs.  It’s short and low, but it’s real.

“So what about you, pretty boy?”  You’ve crossed your arms, expression mimicking his. 

“I speak to snakes.” 

“Ooh.  Impressive.”

He smiles, and this time it’s nearly devilish.  “I’ll ask again.  What’s special about you?”

You sigh, shaking your head.  “Unlike you, I don’t share secrets.”  You shrug.  “Then again, I’m brilliant at solving riddles.”

Tom smirks.  “Oh, really?” 

You nod. 

“Bet you couldn’t solve me.”

You raise an eyebrow.  “Bet I could.” 

Tom’s smirk grows, and soon he’s standing closer, his breath ghosting against your face.  “You really think that you, Ravenclaw heir, could figure me out?”  His voice lowers, he raises an eyebrow.  “Solve me?”

“Two weeks.” 

“One.” 

You stick out your chin, gaze determined.  “Deal.” 

Tom leans in closer, so close that his lips are centimeters away from yours.  “Deal.”  He pulls away, unable to help the sly wink he sends your way.  “And if you lose?”

You grin.  “I don’t lose.” 

“That’s interesting.  Neither do I.”

“Oh?” 

“And I don’t plan to.  Ever.”

“Winner gets a kiss.” 

Tom raises an eyebrow, teasing.  “Tempting.  But that’s not the right answer.” 

“What do you want, then?” 

The look that passes across his face is devilish, nearly terrifying.  “Power.” 

You roll your eyes.  “Fine.  Go lust for power.  You’re not getting any over me.”

request : Omg I am in love with your writing! I wanted to make a request for an extreme angst prompt, where the reader and Remus started dating shortly before the end of 7th year and both go into the order of the phoenix after and she’s about to go on a week long mission when they get into a huge fight. She leaves on the mission and doesn’t come back at the end of the week. A couple weeks pass and she suddenly reappears at headquarters severely injured and uhhh however you decide it should end

a/n : thank u for requesting!

remus tag list : @evyiione

masterlists

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Remus doesn’t sleep anymore.  At least, not really.  How can he, without feeling your warmth around him, without feeling the familiar dip in the bed that’s all you?

He’s so lost.  He’s so lonely without hearing your voice, and he’s missing your touch, your simple hello’s, just everything that made you, you.

And he’s terrified, thinking that you’re hurt somewhere.  Maybe even dead.  But the thing that hurts most is the realization that the last thing he said to you was that you were immature and reckless and that he wished you’d never joined the Order.

He wishes he could take it all back.  He wishes he could have wrapped his arms around you and kissed you with everything he had.  He wished it wasn’t the day after the full moon, and he wished he decided to suck it up and just go with you.

But he didn’t.

He’s startled by a noise downstairs, and footsteps are clattering up the stairs to his room, the door slamming open.

Sirius stares at him with wide eyes.  “Get down here, Remus.”

Remus stares at him numbly.  “Why?”

Sirius is nearly frantic, and Remus doesn’t think he’s seen him like this in a long, long time.  “For fucks sake, get up!  It’s (Y/N)!”

Remus’ eyes widen.  He throws himself up from the bed and pushes past Sirius, running down the stairs.  “(Y/N)?”  He reaches the bottom of Headquarters and swallows, eyes wide.  

You’re leaning against the side of the wall, holding your hand against your side.  Bruised and cut and bloody.  “Fuck you,” you whisper, before your legs are buckling.

Remus lunges for you, his arms around your form, and he nearly drops you when you wince and your eyes tear up.  “It hurts.”

Remus picks you up, gently, carrying you to the couch.  Sirius has already woken up much of the Order, and Lily rushes downstairs, wand in hand.

She glances at Remus for a moment, then shoos him out.  “I’ll heal her.  She’ll be okay, promise.”

And then he’s left standing in an empty hallway, heart aching.

He stands outside for a while, until Lily returns, wringing her hands and wiping them against her side.  “She’s sleeping.  She’ll definitely be sore for a while, but she’s safe.”

Remus nods, thanking Lily, and then he slowly steps into the room.  He sits on the chair beside the couch you lay on, and stays until you wake up.

When you wake up, you try to leave.

But Remus thinks he must look so hurt, so distraught, that somehow you convince yourself to listen to him.   “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“Sorry?”

“I fucked up.”

You look at him for a long while, your fingers coming to trace the scars around his face, the bags underneath his eyes.  “You look terrible.”

“I shouldn’t have said those things.  I was angry and scared, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

You nod.  “I had time to think, too.  It’s in the past, Rem.”

Remus looks at you.  “Is it, though?  You’re still pissed.”

You let out a breath of air, half of your lip quirking up.  “Yeah.  But I also know you were probably out of your mind worrying.”

“I’m just glad you’re back.”  Remus reaches to touch your shoulder.  “Rest up, okay?”

In which James Sirius Potter finds himself in a fake dating AU

masterlists

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The guy wouldn’t get the hint.  You didn’t think something like this would ever happen, something where you would be forced to fucking spell it out.  

Leave me alone.

You take a deep breath, struggling to keep your composure because this guy just wouldn’t listen.  “Look,” you repeat, gritting your teeth, “I’m flattered, really, but I’m not interested.  Sorry.”

“Okay, geezus, let’s just skip past this part.  I get it.  You’re playing hard to get, and honestly, it’s kinda hot.”  He leans against the bleachers.  “Go out with me.  Friday afternoon?”

That’s it.  You grab someone’s arm as they walk off the field, praying to whatever heaven that they wouldn’t blow your cover.  Because oh god, you’re running out of options here, and this is your way out.  Hopefully.

“I can’t go out with you,” you lie to the guy, “we’re doing something on Friday.”  You turn to look at the person you’ve so fortunately roped into your mess.

And oh, shit.

request : Can I have any sort of sad Draco with a happy ending please haha ?

a/n : of course you can anon! hope u enjoy xx

masterlists

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You walk into the common room, not really expecting to see Draco Malfoy slumped on the couch, tossing something up in the air and catching it absentmindedly.  It falls out of his hands and skids to your feet.

“Thought you were a seeker,” you say.  “You can’t even catch this?”

Normally Draco would laugh, say something snide in response.  Today he just gives you a tired look.  Borderline angry.

“Can’t even catch that,” he scowls.  “Can’t even be a decent son, apparently.”

“What?”

Draco sighs, running a hand across his face.  “Nothing.  You wouldn’t get it.”

You inch closer to Draco, tossing the replica snitch back into his hands.  “What’s up?”

“My father’s fucking mental.”

“Same.”

“No way,” Draco says.  “You’re lucky.  My father wants me to follow in his footsteps.  I’m not interested in growing up to be a heartless bastard.”

Ouch.

“You don’t mean that, do you?”

“I do.”  Draco’s growing more frustrated.  “I thought you wanted to listen, not reprimand everything I say.  You’re not being a very good listener.”

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “It’s not fun having a heartless father.”

“Obviously.”  But there’s a small smile on his face, and he doesn’t look as upset as before.  “He doesn’t even care about quidditch.  About house cup.  About anything!”  Draco’s eyes roll back into his head, he leans further into the couch.  “Yet he goes on and on about being a,” and he air quotes, “death eater and a prime example to the Dark Lord.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Draco sighs.  “He won’t even let me complain about stupid Potter.  Always rolls his eyes and leaves the room, mumbling about how I’m such a disappointment.”  He growls.  “Jokes on him, he’s the biggest disappointment I’ve ever seen.  Terrible parenting.  When I grow up, I won’t ever let my child feel like that.”

You tug Draco up from the couch.  “Up.  We’re going out.”

“What?” Draco’s permanent eye-roll vanishes, and the slightest trace of curiosity shines beneath layers of contempt.  “Where?”

“So many questions.  Just trust me.”

Draco shrugs and reluctantly follows you, his hands shoved in his pockets.

You take him to the courtyard, sitting him down on an empty bench.  “Look at the sun, Draco.  Doesn’t it feel nice?”

He scowls.  “No.”

“No?”

“I’m not a child.”

“Sure you are.”  You grin at him.  “So am I, technically.”

“I’m almost an adult.”

“Almost,” you correct, dragging him up again.  “We’re going to play a game.”

“Oh,” Draco says, raising an eyebrow.  “We’ll see about that.”

You laugh.  “None of that ‘I’m too good to play games’ attitude.  You’re not going to say a single negative thing for five minutes.  Okay?”

Draco rolls his eyes but smirks down at you.  “This doesn’t seem like a game to me.  I don’t get anything if I win.”

“Course you do.  If, and only if you manage to be positive for five minutes, you get a kiss.”

Draco’s smirk widens.  “I can kiss you whenever I want.”

“Uh huh.”

He leans forward, but you push your hand against his lips, pushing him back.  “Rules are rules.”

“Fine.”

And he lets you tug his hand and pull him towards the black lake.  You’re skipping pebbles across the water and Draco sticks his hands in the lake and splashes you.

And soon enough, five minutes are up.

Draco’s smile grows, and he cups your face, pulling you in for a kiss.  “I win,” he says smugly.

Sirius is very flirty, definitely teased you about falling asleep just to get a rise out of you

but when you actually do he’s kind of shocked

cue flustered sirius b/c he’s not used to this vulnerability

you look so gentle and peaceful and it makes something inside of him feel all warm and fluttery despite him chatting up people all the time

definitely considers waking you up and just asking you out now, because he can’t handle this softness 

and he definitely wouldn’t mind you falling asleep on him again

when you do wake up he’s tossing pebbles in the lake, and when he looks down at you he’s got the biggest smirk stretched out on his lips

and gives you some dramatic shit about how flattered he is that you adore him so much

and you just shove him on the shoulder

request : Can i reqyest a tom riddle x reader cuddling fic where the reader is rlly tired and lowkey forces/ falls asleeo on Tom which he pretends to be annoyed by (but secretly loves it)

a/n : here is some much-deserved tom almost fluff but not really xx

masterlist 

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Tom’s eyes focus on the book that rests in his hands, his brow furrowing as he reads words stretching across the pages in multitudes.  There’s mention of something called a Horcrux, and he flips through the book to see mention of it anywhere else.

There isn’t.  

His face darkens.  His jaw clenches and he scours through the book once more, the word unable to leave his mind.  A Horcrux — what was it?  What could have been so bad, so evil, that it wasn’t even explained in a restricted book about the Dark Arts?

He looks up from the book as he notices your voice dropping to a quiet mumble, the room filling with soft silence.  

You’re fighting to stay awake, your head jolting up every so often as your eyes flutter shut, and then open slightly.  The book in your lap falls to the floor.  You finally give in to sleep, exhausted.

He doesn’t think anything of it until a few seconds later.  Only when your head falls to rest on his right shoulder.

He looks at you, and his mind goes blank.  He shakes his head and tries to return to his book, obviously disgruntled, but the warmth at his shoulder distracts, and he lets out a sigh.

His first impulse is to jerk his shoulder away, and he begins to.  But he stops himself.  It’s a little too late, his shoulder nudges your head, and you stir.

You don’t wake up, your head simply snuggles closer to Tom. 

He’s frozen now because this is even worse.  He reaches to close the cover of the book, setting it on the couch beside him. 

He looks at you, surprised to see the softness of your features during sleep.  He doesn’t feel like moving, not anymore.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he says aloud, clearly irritated.  Whether it’s to you or himself, he isn’t quite sure. 

But he allows himself to close his eyes for a moment, and the slightest smile hints at the corners of his lips.

He wakes in confusion, as the first bit of light filters through the windows of the common room, distorting from the murky waters of the lake.  His eyes widen as he sees your head resting against his chest, and then his own arms wrapped around you. 

It makes a strange feeling soften at the edges of his heart.

Yet he nudges you, his face blanching in disproval as you wake up.  “Get off me.”

You yawn, rubbing at your bleary eyes.  You look up, finally realizing the position you’re in.

And you smirk, even in your exhausted state.  “Don’t look so upset, Riddle.  I know you’ve been dying to sleep with me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

You pull yourself off him and walk up the stairs to your dorm, sending an exaggerated wink in his way.