the slytherin boys imagines and reacts

t.r ☆ innocent

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

you walked into class, your eyes stumbling upon the boy you were just expecting to see.
tom riddle. he sat upright, quill in hand all ready to take notes. he was beyond smart, some
thought he was smarter than all the professors combined.

something about him being so educationally driven and good looking drove you crazy. and
it was just your luck that you would be sitting next to him for the next year.

"hey tom," you greeted as you sat down next to him.

he didn't reply, giving you a nod before returning back to whatever he was doing. you felt a bit disappointed that he didn't say anything back but maybe he was just reserved.

you looked in your pencil case for a pen, realising you somehow forgot to pack one of the
most important school equipments. "tom, could i borrow a pen please?"

"yeah, here," he said and handed you a black pen.

"thank you," you smiled but he didn't even look at you. what the fuck was wrong with this
guy.

it was safe to say you were a relatively attractive person, you always had plenty of options
open. but of course it was the only guy you wanted who didn't pay a speck of attention to
you.

you didn't understand why you craved his attention so much, he was just some incredibly
smart, incredibly sexy, incredibly god-like 6th year in slytherin who spent most of his time
by himself either revising or reading.

you never truly saw him have any other hobbies, of course reading is one - but normally the
other boys had interests in sports like quidditch or muggle football, but he was different.

that was maybe another reason why you liked him. he preferred peace and quite over loud
crowds screaming when a player scores.

he was so effortlessly mysterious, it made you wonder a lot. what did he dream of? what
type of music does he listen to? does he like animals? is he a tea or coffee person? there
were so many unanswered questions you wanted him to answer.

you were preoccupied with your thoughts to notice tom sneaking looks over at you every
now and then.

he admired you, the way your eyes were focused on the board yet your hand didn't move a
millimetre. your hair looked extra soft, your lashes looked longer than last time he saw you,
with them being curled and the dark mascara layered to make your eyes pop out even more.

you looked effortlessly good as you daydreamed about whatever on earth it was - he
wandered what it was, or who.

you soon snapped out of your thoughts and looked down at your notebook. nothing. not a
singular dot of ink was spotted anywhere. you looked over and saw tom writing away.

you couldn't help but stare at his hands, they were veiny. the good type. not the overly
veiny ones where they looked like they were on the verge of popping or if they made contact with thin paper they would burst open.

they looked smooth, too. he definitely uses non scented hand cream that he has in his bag
but of course no one would ever, and i mean ever, see him apply.

your eyes fixated on the few rings he had on, one on his left index finger. his hand laid on
the table, rarely moving as his right hand did all the writing. the ring was slightly chunky, a
flat circle which a cross imprinted itself.

that man could do anything unholy to you and you would have absolutely no problems
whatsoever. his middle finger held a simple silver ring yet it made you want those fingers
all the way inside of you.