Tom Riddle One Shots

Ask and Recieve

"Come on, baby," the boy slurs, trying to grab at my hand. 

I yank it away, my mouth turning down as a sound of disgust leaves my throat. "Only in my nightmares."

The boy seems to genuinely be confused and I laugh, taking a step back towards the crowd of people. The lights are dimmed; only the flashing blue and green ones being able to illuminate the unfolding situation. 

I somehow lost my friends, finding myself taking a break from dancing in a corner with a drink, that I'm not even sipping on, in hand. This unfamiliar boy, years older and wasted out of his mind, comes up to me, trying to cox me to hook up with him.

Hard pass.

He tries to reach out again, this time aiming for my waist. My eyes widen in alarm and I slap his hand and take another step back. He makes a gargled cry at my direction. He's literally 6'7 and acting like a complete baby. Why do genes work the way they do?

"Venessa, baby," he murmurs and I pause. He thinks I'm Vanessa. I feel a slight sense of relief, not for too long though.

"Venessa... what's her last name?" I feel slightly awkward asking this but I do know several Venessas so I'm hoping it will be at least one of them. Whichever Venessa it is she a shit boyfriend but I won't need to say anything.

"It should be Castello..." he grumbles, trying to reach for me. I roll my eyes, frustration burning up in me. 

He grabs at me again, this time successfully sliding his hands around my waist and pulling me closer to me. I smell the alcohol on his breath and try to push away, my hands clawing at his wrists and my scrunched up face trying to avoid the scent of his breath.

"What's her last name, Pingsley?" A deep voice grumbles from behind me, pushing him roughly against the wall.

This Pingsley guy hits the wall and his sobriety immediately returns, his face going pale as he sees the guy behind me. I try to look back nonchalantly but he seem to be directly behind me, making it undoable. His voice is undeniably familiar but at the same time unrecognizable.

The guy grabs my shoulders protectively, yet surprisingly gently. "This isn't her. Please go sober up in the privacy of your own room or I will report this party and, in my story, you threw it."

Pingsley nods, looking on the verge of throwing up. He pushes himself off the wall, running towards the big crowd in a disoriented way. The guy releases my shoulders, coming into my view. 

His dark hair is disorderly and the top buttons of his shirt are undone. I'm sure if there was anymore light I'd see some sweat against his chest but I don't let my eyes linger, instead letting them travel up his tall stature. Pinglsey was a few inches taller than him but a whole lot less muscular. His serious yet intrigued face was twisted into a look of subtle concern as he took a step towards me.

"Tom Riddle," I hesitate, "thank you."

He nods, pushing my thanks aside. "Pingsley's pathetic. I apologize for him because I think we both know he never will."

I sigh, pushing my hair back. Butterflies erupting in my stomach. Human decency has always been a favorite trait of mine. "No worries, I must really look like Vanessa."

Tom leans against the wall and mutters something. I can't hear him and shake my head, he repeats himself but I still don't understand. He finally leans back towards me, his whisper against my ear loud and clear compared to the blasting music. 

A shiver runs up my spine as his lips graze my ear. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"

He pulls back, thoughtfully analyzing my face. It's a wildly dumb thing for me to consider. I barely know him. But they way his hands make no move towards my body and his eyes stay on mine makes me nod my head, following him to his dorm room.