ZOMIEXD

I write what I feel :) I LOVE TOM RIDDLE

[zombiexdlolz]

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ -----🧟‍♀️ྀིྀི ⋆.ೃ࿔*: ･ 🧟‍♀️ྀིྀི----- ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Hellooo Welcome to my BLOG^^ I Mostly Draw and Write for Fun :)

I am Zombiex and I luvv slow-burns and complex characters^^

Other Acc :)

Wattpad

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⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ -----🧟‍♀️ྀིྀི ⋆.ೃ࿔*: ･ 🧟‍♀️ྀིྀི----- ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

MASTERLIST:

TOM RIDDLE FICS

TOM RIDDLE ONESHOTS.

1, 2,

“BOUND BY YOU”, (PSYCH WARD AU)

“CHARMING CHAOS” (HUFFLEPUFF MC X TOM RIDDLE)

“THE NOT SO PERFECT DARK LORD” (MUGGLE MC X TOM RIDDLE)

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More Coming Soon…

[dionysiaproductions]

[zombiexdlolz]

Spent the rest of my days changing the style of my writing cuz it ain't enough, but I'm content now.👽

Now all I gotta do is fix whatever strange mistakes I made💔.

[zombiexdlolz]

“The Not So Perfect Darklord”

Tom Riddle x Reader

———

Tom Riddle grew up in Wool’s Orphanage with no memories of his parents and no one to call family. Alone from the very beginning, he learned to rely on no one but himself. The other children never understood him, and he never cared enough to make them.

He believed in nothing but himself.

Mrs. Cole called him emotionless and uncanny, convincing herself his behavior came from losing his mother at birth and never knowing his father. But she would never understand what he truly was, or what he could do.

Except for one girl.

She had seen the strange things that happened around him, yet she never ran. Somehow, she stayed. Tom never understood why he found himself looking after her. They were the same age. She should have been able to care for herself. But the one time he stopped, she fell terribly ill and spent the weeks in bed.

But that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was what came next. This time, it was only him and her.

Or so he believed.

———

Another Angst to regulate our emotions.😋

Warning: kidnapping, stalking.

———

The morning stretched on. The faint smell of worn cabbage and freshly washed laundry lingered in the air as you leaned against the wall, your pen quietly scribbling inside Tom’s diary.

Tom had gone off again, telling you to stay put while he sorted something out. You didn’t question him. It was better if you didn’t.

He knew everything, what you liked, what you didn’t.

He always made sure you had an extra piece of bread, or quietly slid the rest of his soup into your bowl whenever no one was looking. Somehow, he made life at the orphanage easier.

He’d always press a kiss to the top of your head before leaving for the boys’ wing. And every time you scraped your knee or came back with another bruise from your endless clumsiness, he’d be there, carefully cleaning the wound without a word.

He did everything.

You felt guilty. Even at nine years old, you knew better. Tom was only a child too, yet it always felt as though he’d already grown up. As if he’d lived through far more than he should have.

So why did you still depend on him? Was it because you were clumsy? Or because you were afraid?

Tom never asked. He simply did it. And sometimes you wondered how long it would take before he finally grew tired of taking care of you.

Your thoughts were cut short by the familiar scream of one of the boys, Billy. A loud thud followed, shaking the attic door.

It creaked open.

Tom peeked his head inside before quietly stepping in. With a small sigh, he shut the door behind him and turned toward you. The same unreadable expression rested on his face.

What did he do this time?

“Tom… what happened?”

His eyes never left yours as he slowly walked over.

“He won’t bother you anymore.”

Before you could ask what he meant, another shout echoed through the corridors below. Tom paused. His gaze drifted toward the floor, listening. Then, without the slightest hint of concern, the corner of his mouth curved into something almost… satisfied.

You remained silent, his diary still clutched tightly in your hands. Tom glanced at you once more before pausing, his gaze lingering for a brief moment. Then he leaned in slightly.

“You know I can’t always be here for you.”

“I know,” you answered softly, the words heavier than they should have been.

You had always known it would come to this. That one day, he would leave.

Your breath wavered as you lowered your eyes, fingers tightening around the worn-out leather cover. You stayed quiet, unable to find the right words. Unsure.

Hurt.

“The professor who came here told me… you can’t come with me.”

He paused, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Because you’re not like me.”

You clutched the diary a little tighter, confusion etched across your face.

“What do you mean?”

Tom held your gaze for a long moment, as if weighing whether you would understand. Then, without a trace of hesitation, he spoke.

“The professor said I’m going to a different school.”

He paused.

“A place for people like me.”

His eyes drifted toward the attic window before returning to yours.

“He said you can’t come.”

The room fell silent. You stared at him, trying to make sense of his words.

“A different school…?” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Tom gave a small nod.

“He said you’re not like me.”

Your fingers curled around the worn leather cover of his diary. You wanted to ask what he meant by that, what made him different, and why it meant he had to leave.

But the words refused to come. All you could think about was the last thing he’d said.

He was leaving.

The words settled between you like a weight neither of you knew how to carry.

“…So you’ll be gone?”

Tom nodded once.

“For most of the year.”

You lowered your gaze to the diary in your lap, tracing the worn edges with your thumb. The attic suddenly felt quieter than it had only moments before.

“When?”

“In September.”

It wasn’t far.

Your chest tightened.

“You’ll come back… right?”

Tom looked at you for a moment before answering.

“During the holidays.”

His voice remained as calm as ever, certain and unwavering.

“But you’ll still be here.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to nod, though the thought settled heavily in your chest.

“I see…”

Silence returned. Neither of you spoke.

The only sound was the faint chatter of children drifting up from below, muffled by the old wooden floorboards. Tom watched you, his expression unreadable, while your fingers remained wrapped around the diary, holding onto it as though letting go would somehow make his leaving real.

You searched his face, hoping to find even the slightest hint that he was joking.

There was none.

Tom never joked about things like this. He never jokes in general.

“…Okay.”

It was all you could manage.

You lowered your eyes, brushing your fingers over the worn cover of his diary. The pages were filled with little stories, strange drawings, and thoughts neither of you would ever say aloud. Somehow, it felt heavier now.

“I’ll wait.”

Tom watched you quietly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

You smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“But I want to.”

Something flickered across his face.

It was gone before you could make sense of it. He reached over and gently took the diary from your hands, tucking it beneath his arm.

“I’ll bring you another one.”

“So you’ll have something new to write in.”

You looked up at him.

“…Really?”

He gave a small nod.

“Really.”

For a brief moment, the heaviness in your chest eased.

Just a little.

Outside, the afternoon carried on as though nothing had changed. But inside the attic, the days you had left together suddenly felt far too few.

———

The days dragged on.

Without Tom, the attic felt colder somehow. The silence lingered longer than it used to, and every corner reminded you of him. You found yourself glancing toward the attic door more often than you’d like to admit, half-expecting him to walk through it with that same unreadable expression.

But he never did.

Days turned into weeks.

Before you knew it, you were standing alongside the other children, all lined up neatly as they waited for visitors hoping to take a child home. You stood quietly among them, your thoughts somewhere else entirely.

Would Tom be back soon?

The question was engraved in your mind so often that you barely noticed Mrs. Cole calling your name. It wasn’t until she gently rested a hand on your shoulder that you looked up.

Standing beside her was a well-dressed couple.

They were smiling at you. You managed to return the smile, trying to erase the heavy feeling that ached inside. For a moment, the couple looked at one another before smiling even wider.

And the next thing you knew, you had been adopted.

As Mrs. Cole folded your clothes into a small worn suitcase, you stood quietly by the doorway, watching her. Your thoughts kept circling back to Tom, worried. Wondering if his new school was treating him better than he was here.

“…Mrs. Cole?”

She looked up.

“Will Tom know I’ll be gone?”

She paused, carefully placing another shirt into the bag.

“He’ll know.”

You lowered your gaze.

“…Will he be worried?”

Mrs. Cole didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked over and gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“He’ll understand.”

Your fingers tightened around the edge of your sleeves..

“…Will I ever see him again?”

Mrs. Cole’s smile faltered, only for a moment.

“I don’t know, dear.”

The room fell quiet. You nodded slowly. Now the ache felt too overwhelming to bear, because a part of you hoped that someday, you would see him again.

“…I hope he doesn’t think I left without saying goodbye.”

Mrs. Cole zipped the suitcase shut and let out a quiet sigh.

“Come now,” she said gently.

“They’re waiting.”

You nodded, though your feet refused to move. One last time, your eyes wandered around the small attic. The worn mattress in the corner. The tiny window overlooking the rooftops. The old wooden floorboards that creaked whenever Tom walked across them.

It was strange.

You had always imagined the day you left Wool’s. You just never imagined leaving without him.

Clutching your bag, you followed Mrs. Cole downstairs.

The couple waited patiently by the front door. As you stepped outside, a cool breeze brushed against your face. You turned around one last time.

The orphanage stood just as it always had.

Quiet.

Old.

Unchanging.

“…Goodbye, Tom,” you whispered.

Then you climbed into the car. The engine rumbled to life. Slowly, Wool’s Orphanage disappeared from view.

—

September came and went.

The leaves had begun to turn when the front gates of Wool’s creaked open once again. A familiar boy stepped inside, a worn suitcase in one hand.

Tom Riddle had come home.

The familiar smell of old wood and boiled cabbage greeted him the moment he stepped inside. Nothing had changed, the same worn walls, the same creaking floorboards. The same children running through the halls.

Tom barely spared them a glance, his feet carried him upstairs without thinking, the attic door groaned as he pushed it open.

“…”

Silence.

The room was empty. His eyes swept across the small space. The small mattress remained where it had always been, the little window still overlooked the grey rooftops.

Everything was exactly as he’d left it.

Everything…

Except you.

He stood there for a long moment, waiting. Maybe you had wandered downstairs, maybe Mrs. Cole had given you chores. Without another thought, he turned and made his way back through the halls.

You weren’t in the dining room, nor the yard, not in the laundry room, not even hiding in the little corners you always seemed to find.

His steps slowed.

Ever since his return, something felt…

Wrong.

Mrs. Cole nearly walked past him before he spoke.

“…Where is she?”

She stopped. For a brief moment, neither of them said anything.

Then she sighed.

“She was adopted.”

The words settled into silence.

Tom didn’t answer.

“…When?”

“A few weeks after you left.”

His gaze remained fixed on Mrs. Cole.

“She asked about you.”

Another pause.

“She wanted to know if you’d be worried.”

Tom’s expression never changed.

“…Alright”

That was all he said. He walked past Mrs. Cole and climbed the stairs once more. The attic was just as empty as before.

Only this time…

He knew it wasn’t temporary. The room felt different, not because anything had changed. But because something was missing.

Tom set his suitcase beside the mattress and looked around.

Your blanket was gone, the little stack of books the two of you shared had disappeared. Even the corner where you always sat with his diary had been cleared away, as though you had never been there at all.

He stood in silence.His fingers brushed against the cover of another diary tucked beneath his arm.

The promise, He had kept it.

But you hadn’t been there to read a single page. Tom lowered himself onto the mattress, opening the diary to the first blank page. The tip of his pen hovered for a moment before the ink finally touched the paper.

You left before I came back.

He stared at the sentence. Then, with one slow stroke, he crossed it out.

No.

That wasn’t true, you hadn’t left, you had been taken. The realization settled quietly in his mind.

He closed the diary.

Outside, the voices of the other children echoed through the halls, but he paid them no attention. His gaze drifted toward the attic door.

One thought lingered.

He would find you.

Someday.

No matter how long it took.

———

Years passed.

The little girl who once wandered the halls of Wool’s Orphanage had long since grown up. And life with your foster parents had been kinder than you ever imagined. They never treated you as though you were someone they had simply taken in.

To them…

You were their daughter. That frightened child who once waited by the attic door slowly became a memory. In her place stood a young woman who had learned how to stand on her own.

You have a job now.

Every morning began the same way. You’d wake before the sun, prepare breakfast, and remind your foster parents not to overwork themselves. But they would always laugh, insisting they were perfectly capable.

You never believed them.

Now that you were old enough to earn your own living, it felt right to return even a fraction of the love they had given you.

Life was peaceful.

And somewhere along the way, the name Tom Riddle became nothing more than a quiet memory tucked away in the corner of your heart.

At least that's what you believed.

————

Elsewhere, another life had continued. Tom Riddle had grown into the brilliant young man everyone expected him to become.

Gifted.

Charming.

Exceptional.

At least, that was what they saw. Hogwarts had only confirmed what he had always believed, wizards were superior.

Muggles were weak, blind to the world that existed around them. They lived ordinary lives, never realizing how insignificant they truly were. Tom found no value in them.

None.

Yet there was one thought that returned whenever he allowed himself a moment of silence.

You. A muggle. Someone who, by every measure he had come to believe, should have meant nothing.

It was irrational, an inconvenience. A memory he should have discarded years ago.

Instead, he buried it. Deep enough that no one—not even himself—would question why he still remembered the little girl who used to wait for him in the attic at Wool’s.

But years had already passed, people changed, memories fade.

Surely… You had forgotten him by now, He had tried to forget.

Years at Hogwarts, endless books, ambition, power. He buried himself in all of it, convincing himself that the little girl from Wool’s had become nothing more than a passing memory.

She was a muggle.

She should have meant nothing. That was what he told himself.

Again.

And again.

Yet now and then, he’d find himself remembering the attic, the worn out diary, the quiet voice that never feared him.

It was absurd.

He despised weakness, he despised sentiment.

There should have been no exceptions.

Least of all… you.

The thought irritated him more than he cared to admit.

So he decided to put an end to it. If seeing you again was what it took to rid himself of a memory that had refused to die…

Then so be it.

————

It didn’t take long. Finding you was easier than he expected. The moment he saw you from across the street, carrying a basket beneath the afternoon sun as though the years had never touched you, Tom stood still.

Years have passed, and yet what he deemed a memory before him was no longer a memory at all.

He didn’t call your name, instead he watched. From across the street, hidden among the passing crowd, his eyes followed your every movement.

You have changed, You are taller now. Older.

The timid little girl from Wool’s had disappeared, replaced by a young woman who carried herself with quiet confidence.

Yet some things hadn’t changed.

You still smiled at strangers, you still tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear whenever you were busy. And you still stopped to help an elderly woman gather the apples she had accidentally dropped.

…Still foolish.

Tom watched as the woman thanked you with a warm smile.

You smiled back.

There it was again, that same smile. The one you used to give him whenever he’d return from the boys’ wing with an extra piece of bread hidden behind his back.

His gaze lingered. Without realizing it, his feet had already begun moving. One step, then another. Until he found himself standing only a few paces behind you.

You remained unaware.

“…”

Tom stopped, he didn’t know what to say. He turned away. But not because he wanted to. Because walking up to you would answer too many questions too quickly.

So he watched.

The next morning, he found himself standing across the street from the little bakery where you worked.

You greeted every customer with the same gentle smile, you thanked them, apologized when you accidentally handed someone the wrong loaf, and laughed quietly at your own mistake.

It was… ordinary.

Painfully ordinary.

The day after that, he saw you leave work with a basket tucked beneath your arm. But instead of going straight home, you stopped at the market.

You bargained over vegetables, bought fresh flowers.

Then hurried off when you realized you were running late, you still had a habit of losing track of time. Tom watched from a distance.

Yet he never stepped close enough to be noticed.

Days became a week.. Then another.

Without meaning to, he had memorized your routine. You left the house just after sunrise, you always stopped to feed the same stray cat behind the bakery, you took the longer road home whenever the weather was nice. And on Sundays, you bought your foster parents their favorite pastries before they could wake up.

He knew all of it.

It was becoming… troublesome.

Every day he told himself it would be the last.

Tomorrow, he will stop. Tomorrow, he will return to his own affairs.

Yet tomorrow always became another day spent watching from the crowd, convincing himself he was merely satisfying an old curiosity. He never noticed when curiosity had become a habit. Nor did he notice that, because despite all his careful distance…

His eyes searched for you first, before anyone else.

————

It happened on an afternoon no different from the rest. Tom had already decided it would be the last day. He watched as you locked the bakery door, brushing the flour from your apron before stepping onto the quiet street.

You smiled to yourself, not unusual. Tom thought.

Then someone called your name, you turned. A man was making his way toward you. He looked about your age, dressed neatly, carrying a paper bag beneath one arm. And the moment he reached you, your face lit up.

You laughed.

Tom’s gaze remained fixed on the two of you. The man said something he couldn’t hear. You nudged his shoulder with a playful smile.

He smiled back.

They began walking together.

Side by side. Close enough that their arms brushed every so often.

Tom followed.

Neither of you noticed him slightly marching his way through the afternoon crowd, his footsteps measured, his expression unreadable. He watched the man carry your basket without you asking. He watched you thank him, he watched the two of you disappear into a small café, choosing a table by the window.

For a long moment, Tom remained outside.

His eyes never left the man sitting across from you.

“…”

A strange feeling settled in his chest. He disliked it, it was unnecessary.

Irrational.

His fingers tightened around the book tucked beneath his arm.

Who was he?

The question echoed through his mind far longer than it should have. Long enough for another thought to quietly follow.

Why…

…was he beside you?

———

Tom returned the next day, and the day after that. The man appeared again, always at the same hour, always waiting for you outside the bakery. Sometimes he’d carry the heavier bags before you could reach for them.

Sometimes the two of you would stop by the market together, talking about things Tom couldn’t hear.

It became… frequent.

Too frequent.

Tom remained unseen, he learned the man’s routine as easily as he had learned yours, where he worked, when he left, down to the streets he preferred, and how long it took him to walk home.

Every detail quietly settled into memory.

One afternoon, the answer came without him having to search for it. The man reached over and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You didn’t pull away.

Instead…

You smiled.

Tom stopped walking, the crowd flowed around him as though he wasn’t there. His eyes never left the two of you.

So.

That was it.

His expression remained unchanged, yet something cold settled behind his gaze. For years, he had convinced himself that finding you would put an end to the memory.

Instead…

Someone else had taken the place beside you. A place that had once belonged to him. His fingers curled slowly at his side.

How…

Inconvenient.

———

The following days became quieter, Tom no longer watched only you. He watched him. Every glance, every conversation, every smile exchanged between the two of you.

He committed them all to memory, the man never seemed suspicious, never raised his voice, never forced your hand.

He was… ordinary.

Which made Tom dislike him even more.

Ordinary people were predictable.

Forgettable.

Yet somehow…

You looked at him the way you used to look for Tom whenever he returned to the attic. The thought lingered longer than it should have.

One evening, the two of you stopped outside your home.

The man handed you a small paper bag.

You laughed softly before taking something from inside.

A knitted scarf.

You held it against your neck, smiling as you thanked him. Tom watched from the shadows across the street. His gaze fell to the scarf, then to the man.

“…”

A gift.

How thoughtful.

The corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest smile. It wasn’t warm, nor kind. It was the smile of someone who had finally reached a conclusion.

He had seen enough. That man wasn’t a stranger, he wasn’t merely a friend.

He mattered.

Tom then turned away without another glance.

And ever since finding you…

He had a name to remember. And to him, names were never difficult to erase.

He allowed himself to believe that soon…

You would be his alone.

———

The following afternoon, Tom returned to the same street. The bakery door swung open. You stepped outside, brushing the flour from your sleeves as you stretched beneath the warm afternoon sun. And a familiar voice called your name.

You turned.

There he was… Alive.

Unharmed, smiling at you as though nothing had happened.

Tom frowned.

The man walked over, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, he looked tired, uneasy. His gaze wandered across the street, searching the crowd for someone only he knew.

Tom.

You tilted your head.

“Is something wrong?”

The man hesitated before forcing another smile.

“No… I just didn’t sleep very well.”

You frowned with concern.

“You should get some rest.”

“I will.”

He reached for the basket in your hands.

“Here, let me carry that.”

You thanked him with the same gentle smile Tom remembered from years ago. Across the street, Tom watched in silence.

Interesting.

The fear had lingered, but not enough. The man still returned, still standing beside you. Still reached for what Tom had already decided wasn’t his to touch.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

Perhaps…

A warning had been too generous.

Without another glance, Tom turned and disappeared into the crowd.

This time…

He would choose a different approach.

———

The man didn’t come the next day.

You waited outside the bakery a little longer than usual. You glanced down the street.

Nothing.

“…Maybe he’s running late,” you murmured.

He didn’t come the day after that either, nor the day after. Concern slowly replaced confusion. You found yourself stopping by the small shop where he worked.

The bell above the door chimed softly.

The elderly shopkeeper looked up.

“Oh… you’re looking for him?”

You nodded.

“I haven’t seen him in days.”

The old man sighed.

“He resigned.”

Your brows knitted together.

“…Resigned?”

“He came in early one morning, packed his things, and left.”

“He said he had to move.”

“Immediately.”

A strange feeling settled in your chest.

“He didn’t even say goodbye?”

The shopkeeper shook his head.

“No.”

“He seemed frightened.”

“Kept looking over his shoulder as though someone was following him.”

You thanked the old man quietly before stepping back outside. The afternoon felt strangely colder. You looked down the empty street.

“…That’s unlike him.”

Across the road, hidden among the passing crowd…

Tom watched you, his expression remained calm. The man had made the correct decision.

He left.

Exactly as he’d been told. Tom should have been satisfied.

Instead…

His eyes lingered on your face.

You looked disappointed.

You were searching for answers.

For him.

An unfamiliar irritation settled within him, he had solved the problem.

So why…

…did you look so unhappy?

———

Tom had imagined this moment many times. Too many times.

He imagined you recognizing him immediately. Your eyes widening, as his name left your lips.

Something.

Anything.

Instead…

You looked at him like he was a stranger.

The encounter was painfully ordinary.

You were leaving the bakery when you accidentally bumped into him, the papers in your hands scattering across the pavement.

“Oh—I’m sorry.”

Your voice stopped him, not because of what you said, but because of how you said it.

Polite, gentle.. Unfamiliar.

Tom looked down at the papers before kneeling to pick them up. You thanked him with a small smile.

“Thank you. I’m sorry again, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Nothing, no recognition, no hesitation, no sign that you remembered the boy who once shared an attic with you. The boy who used to clean your scraped knees, the boy who promised he would write.

Tom handed the papers back.

“You’re welcome.”

His voice remained calm. Controlled. You smiled once more before walking away.

And that was it.

You left, without ever looking back. Tom remained standing there. A strange irritation slowly settled in his chest.

Years.

Years of remembering a muggle who should have been nothing, years of carrying a memory he had no reason to keep.

And for what?

You had forgotten, you had moved on, you built a life without him.

His jaw tightened.

Ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

He was Tom Riddle.

He had far more important things to think about.

Power.

Knowledge.

The future.

Not some childhood attachment to a muggle who couldn’t even recognize him.

Yet… His eyes followed your figure until you disappeared into the crowd. And that was the part that irritated him the most. Because despite everything he told himself…

He still followed.

The next few days were no different. At least, that was what Tom wanted to believe.

He continued with his work.

His studies, his plans. Everything that mattered.

Yet somehow… He kept finding himself near the same streets.

The same bakery, the same path you took home. It was becoming an irritating habit. A habit he refused to acknowledge.

You were just a muggle.

Nothing more.

So why did he stop when he saw you struggling with a box of supplies outside the bakery?

Why did he walk over?

Why did he bother?

Before he could question himself, he was already standing beside you.

“You’ll damage those if you continue carrying them like that.”

You looked up. Surprise crossed your face.

“Oh.”

You quickly smiled.

“I guess you’re right.”

That smile again. The same one.

Only now…

It wasn’t meant for him. Tom looked away.

“Give it to me.”

Your brows raised slightly.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

You hesitated before handing him the box.

“Thank you.”

There it was. That simple gratitude, like he was just another stranger.

Tom disliked it, more than he should have.

“You don’t remember me.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

You blinked.

“…I’m sorry?”

Tom immediately regretted saying it. Not because it revealed anything. Because your confusion was genuine.

You truly had no idea.

“I mean…”

He paused. A rare moment of hesitation.

“You don’t remember Wool’s Orphanage?”

Your expression changed slightly. The name caught your attention.

“Wool’s?”

You repeated it softly. Tom watched carefully.

Waiting.

Searching for any sign. Then your eyes widened a little.

“Oh…”

A small laugh escaped you.

“I haven’t thought about that place in years.”

Years.

Not forgotten… Just left behind.

For some reason, that irritated him even more.

“And me?”

The question was quieter than he intended. You looked at him.

Confused.

“I’m sorry… have we met before?”

Tom had reached his limit. Waiting had always been something he was good at.

Planning.

Observing.

Calculating.

But this…

This was becoming an inconvenience he could no longer tolerate.

You stood there in front of him, unaware of everything that had happened between the two of you. Unaware of the years he spent remembering. Unaware of the promise made in a forgotten attic.

It was almost insulting.

So he decided.

If you couldn’t remember…

Then he would make you remember. Tom knew it was reckless.

Dangerously so.

There were things he had spent years building, a reputation carefully crafted among those who followed him. A reputation built on power, superiority, and the belief that muggles were beneath him.

And yet here he was.

Standing before one.

Making an exception.

A weakness.

If they ever discovered it, they would question him. They would see the contradiction.

The great Tom Riddle, who claimed muggles were insignificant, went out of his way for one person who couldn’t even remember his name.

Tom Riddle the Hyprocite.

The thought irritated him. But not enough to stop.

Because no matter how many times he told himself that you were nothing… He had already proven otherwise.

“You really don’t remember.”

It wasn’t a question.

You looked at him carefully, noticing the strange intensity behind his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology was genuine. And somehow, that made it worse.

Tom looked away for a moment, he had expected fear, confusion. Maybe even suspicion.

Not kindness, not from you.

Not again.

“Come with me.”

Your expression shifted.

“…Where?”

Tom met your eyes.

For the first time in years, he allowed himself to make a decision without thinking of the consequences.

“Somewhere you’ll remember.”

You hesitated. Every instinct told you that following a stranger was a foolish decision. But yet something about him felt strangely familiar.

Not his face. Not his voice.

Something else.

A feeling you couldn’t explain.

“…Do I know you?”

The question made him pause. Tom looked back at you. For a moment, the answer sat on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes.”

“You do.”

You knew him before anyone else did. Before the reputation, before the name, before the person he had forced himself to become.

But instead, he simply said:

“But not anymore.”

The words surprised even him. You stared at him, confused.

Tom turned away, continuing down the street. After a moment, you followed.

The walk was quiet.

He didn’t speak, neither did you. But Tom noticed everything. The way you looked around curiously, the way you kept a careful distance and the way you still trusted him enough to follow.

It was exactly the same.

And somehow…

It wasn’t.

When he finally stopped, you found yourself standing in front of an old building.

Wool’s Orphanage.

The sight of it made your breath catch.

You hadn’t seen it in years. The faded walls, the familiar windows. The place you once called home.

“You remember now?”

Tom watched your expression closely. You stepped closer, your fingers brushing against the old gate.

Memories slowly returned.

The attic.

The diary.

The boy who always seemed to appear whenever you needed him.

Your eyes widened.

“Tom…”

The name escaped your lips before you even realized it.

He went completely still.

Your voice was quiet, almost uncertain. But it was enough.

For years, he had wondered if he was the only one who remembered.

If the attic, the diary, and those years at Wool’s had only existed in his mind.

But there it was.

His name.

From you.

Tom looked away for a moment, hiding the brief shift in his expression.

“You remember.”

It wasn’t a question. You stared at him, still trying to piece everything together.

“I…”

Your eyes moved around the old orphanage building.

“I thought you were gone.”

The words were simple. But they lingered.

Tom’s gaze returned to you.

“Gone?”

You lowered your head slightly.

“You left for that school.”

A pause.

“I thought maybe you forgot about me.”

Something unreadable crossed his face.

Forgot?

The irony almost made him laugh.

You were the one who forgot.

Not him…

Never him.

“I didn’t.”

The answer came too quickly.

You looked up. Tom seemed to realize it as well. His expression hardened.

“I mean…”

He corrected himself.

“I remembered.”

The distinction was unnecessary. But it mattered to him.

You smiled faintly.

“You haven’t changed much.”

Tom raised an eyebrow.

“What does that mean?”

“You still talk like everything you say is a fact.”

For a moment, silence. Then something strange happened.

A small, almost invisible change.

Not a smile.

Not really.

But something close.

“You still notice too much.”

You tilted your head.

“And you still avoid answering questions.”

Tom looked away.

Annoyingly…

You were right. After all these years. You were still the only person who could say something like that to him and remain standing.

You stepped closer, unsure.

Not because you were afraid of him. But because something about this moment felt impossible. The boy you remembered was standing in front of you, yet he was not the same... That quiet child who used to sit beside you in the attic had grown into someone far more distant.

Older.

Colder.

His presence felt heavier than you remembered.

But behind it…

There was still something familiar.

“You really are Tom.”

The words came out softly, almost as if you were convincing yourself. His eyes stayed on you.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

You looked down for a moment, fingers brushing against the old gate.

“I spent so long wondering if I would ever see you again.”

A silence followed. Tom didn’t know what to do with that.

He had expected questions.

Fear.

Maybe even anger for disappearing.

Not this.

Not someone standing in front of him as if his absence had mattered.

“You grew up.”

It was a simple statement.

You looked back at him and smiled slightly.

“So did you.”

The answer was obvious. Yet somehow, hearing it from you felt different.

Tom looked away.

He shouldn’t have been here.

He shouldn’t have cared.

He shouldn’t have spent years searching for a person who belonged to a world he had long rejected.

A muggle. A weakness. An exception.

And yet…

There he stood.

Still unable to leave.

Tom knew this was wrong, that was the irritating part. For once, he was aware. He knew what he had built.

The reputation, the followers, the power.

A world where everyone either feared him or admired him.

And yet…

None of them had known him before that. None of them had seen the boy in the attic. The boy who was still capable of keeping a promise.

Only you had.

And that was exactly why he couldn’t allow himself to lose you again.

Not to time.

Not to another person.

Not to a world that would never understand what you meant to him.

So he made a decision.

You would stay away from it all.

Away from the whispers, away from the people who followed him, away from the darkness that surrounded his name.

He would keep that part of himself hidden from you. Because you didn’t need to know.

You didn’t need to see what he had become.

You only needed to remember him.

Tom Riddle.

Not the name they feared, not the person they followed.

Just him.

The boy who sat beside you in the attic. The boy who promised he would come back.

And this time…

He wouldn’t let anything take you away. Because he had spent years being forgotten. He would not allow it to happen again.

Not by you…

———

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep.

Or where you were.

The first thing you noticed was the silence. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that made your chest tighten. Your eyes slowly opened, unfamiliar surroundings coming into view.

A large room, tall windows, dark wooden furniture.

A place that looked like it belonged in another world entirely. You sat up slowly, your heart beginning to race.

Where was this?

The last thing you remembered was walking home.

Then…

Nothing.

You pushed yourself from the bed, your feet touching the cold floor.

The room was beautiful.

Too beautiful.

But somehow, that made it worse. Because you didn’t recognize any of it. You walked toward the door and turned the handle.

Nothing.

Locked.

Your breath caught. You tried again.

Harder.

Still nothing.

A strange fear settled in your chest.

“Hello?”

Your voice echoed through the empty room.

No answer. You slowly stepped back.

This wasn’t your home, this wasn’t anywhere you knew.

And yet…

Somehow, everything around you felt carefully prepared. As if someone had planned every detail.

The books on the shelves, the clothes folded neatly nearby, even the small things you used every day.

Everything you needed was here.

Except one thing.

A way out.

Your fingers tightened around the door handle.

“Tom…”

The name left your lips quietly. Because deep down…

You already knew.

This wasn’t a place you had found.

It was a place someone had chosen for you.

And ever since seeing him again…

You weren’t remembering the boy from Wool’s.

You were facing the man he had become.

——

Tom stood outside the door.

Silent.

For once, he didn’t enter immediately. He knew what he had done. He knew what everyone would think if they ever found out.

The great Tom Riddle.

The one who spoke of power.

The one who believed muggles were beneath him.

Keeping one hidden away.

Protecting one.

Choosing one.

The wizarding world would never understand it, and his followers would question him. They would wonder why someone like him would make an exception.

Why would he waste his time on someone who should have meant nothing.

They would see it as weakness.

A flaw.

A contradiction.

And perhaps… They would be right.

Because no matter how many times he convinced himself otherwise, you remained the one thing he could never erase.

The one memory he couldn’t destroy.

The one person who knew him before the name became feared.

Before the power, before the darkness.

Tom placed his hand against the door.

He could continue pretending.

Pretend this was simply another choice, another decision he made because it benefited him.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

You were the only exception he had ever allowed. And that was the secret he would take to his grave.

The world could never know.

Not his enemies.

Not his followers.

Not anyone.

Only him.

And you.

———

Tom in his Joe Goldberg era😭

Like Mother like Son if you know what I mean👀

Had to finish this so my mind can finally rest in peace..😔

[princessstupidlove]

Subtleties

Gossip runs rampant at Hogwarts. The loudest rumour seems to be that Tom Riddle is dating the Slytheirn Head Girl: (Y/N). A Ravenclaw Head Boy is determined to prove otherwise. Part 2 in Complexities. WC: 3009 Category: Character Study, Romance? Links To Other Parts: 1 - 2

A/N: I finally finished part 2!!!! Again, I do hope you enjoy this part! I'll be finishing up part 3 very soon! Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next part!

Relationships were always the centre of gossip at Hogwarts. Students adored whispering about the latest student affairs: who was seeing who at Hogsmeade, who was kissing who in their common rooms—hell, there were whispers about professors secretly meeting with students. But none were more talked about than the rumour that Tom Riddle—the boy who had turned down every girl, who was rumoured to be loveless, the untouchable, the untameable—was committing the most scandalous offence imaginable for a prefect: secretly dating his own Head Girl.

One of the biggest of the non-believers was the Ravenclaw Head Boy.  He'd spent his fair share alongside the Slytherin head boy through classes and prefect duties and not once had the Ravenclaw Head Boy seen an ounce of care outside his study. In class, Tom was at the front, his eyes never leaving the board, professor or parchment. Outside of class, Tom was always in the prefect’s private classroom, studying some enormous and advanced textbook intended for older students in pure silence. Within crowds, Tom refused to engage with students unless absolutely necessary. Whilst the Ravenclaw head boy didn't know what Tom could be doing in his common room, his astute mind concluded it wouldn't be too different. Emotionally vacant, scarily studious, and absolutely focused, to the Ravenclaw head boy, there was no room or ability to care.

Which is why he vehemently refused to believe he was dating (Y/N), the Slytherin Head Girl, who was quite possibly the exact opposite of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

The Ravenclaw Head Boy had also spent his fair share with (Y/N) and it was… less than desirable. (Y/N) was a smart but extremely loud girl. In class, (Y/N) tried to pay attention to her professors, but inevitably found herself whispering to those around her. The Ravenclaw Head Boy had always found it strange that someone intelligent enough to earn top marks seemed so unwilling to behave like it. Outside of class, (Y/N) was the loudest in her friends' study groups, taking great pride and sneering at others whenever she came first in their weekly quizzes. Within crowds, (Y/N) was all smiles and constantly pointing, always excited to see someone she recognised and stalling a whole classroom’s worth of students from getting to class if it meant she could have a laugh. It was well known around Hogwarts that (Y/N)'s rather brash attitude didn't change in the Slytherin common room. From the Ravenclaw Head Boy's perspective, it seemed that everything Tom had lacked-or more so, hated-(Y/N) had in abundance. (Y/N)’s tie was generally skewed, her hair was never parted evenly, she spilt pumpkin juice all the time, she’d talk while she was eating, she had crooked handwriting for her Charms notes, she’d even laughed at some first years when she beat them at Gobstones. But perhaps the most egregious act that convinced the Ravenclaw Head Boy that the two couldn’t be dating? The most heinous crime that Tom would absolutely denounce her for?

She had an overdue library book. He’d discovered it not too long ago and had already reprimanded her on it too. All she did was smile, thank him, and promise she’d return it the next day. The utter gall. The absolute arrogance. To think she was above the library. How dare she!

Knowing this, the Ravenclaw Head Boy concluded there was no way they were dating.  For Tom Riddle, of all people, there was just too much wrong with that girl.

***

And then the fifth Quidditch match of the year started: Slytherin vs Gryffindor.

The house head boys and girls all attended separately, slowly starting to fill their established seats. The Ravenclaw Head Boy did try to attend with the head girl, but she got held up in the library and arrived later. It was only Tom and (Y/N) who walked together, but only because school policy recommended that house heads attend together.

The Ravenclaw Head Boy heard parts of their conversation.

"Professor Slughorn requested the attendance sheets be signed off." Tom instructed, face focused on the Quidditch field and hands held behind his back. (Y/N) held a hand up to her face, inspecting her nails lazily as she hummed.

"Already done." Tom barely spared a glance towards her as he sighed.

"Not fast enough." He declared as (Y/N) let out a questioning and obnoxiously loud 'eh?', turning to face Tom and tilting her head forward, puzzled.

"I got them to his desk before the match started!" She said, one eyebrow raised at his claim. Tom seemed to think she wasn’t worthy of another glance.

"You were late." Tom concluded as (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

"You're always so huffy in Quidditch season." (Y/N) remarked, changing the subject to avoid further trouble.

"I have no interest in this barbaric waste of time." Tom spewed, eyes dark from annoyance from her idle chat. “The Keepers consistently fail at outmanoeuvring their opponent’s beaters from their overt reliance on an undisciplined freeform technique.” (Y/N) stared up at him with an eyebrow raised, not impressed with what she heard.

“Dude, Tom, it’s Quidditch.” Tom rolled his eyes at her. “You don’t even like it.” She said deadpanned.

“Precisely, but I’m not foolish enough to attend events I have no understanding of.” He said as (Y/N) shrugged. “Don’t mistake my passing understanding as enjoyment. I already predict our loss.” Tom finished, irritated as he spoke.

"Oh, come on, maybe if we cheer hard enough, Slytherin will win!" (Y/N) chimed, a cheeky smile on her lips.

"Don't be daft," Tom scolded. "If our team must rely on cheering, then we never would have won." (Y/N) only giggled. It seemed she was back to pushing his buttons.

"Watch, I'll cheer our seeker on and we'll win." (Y/N) bet as Tom shook his head at her in disgust. Throughout their conversation, all head boys and girls had gathered in their private booth, a privilege of many for their hard work. Whilst the Gryffindor heads tried to antagonise Tom and (Y/N), Tom scoffed, no interest in the petty squabble of house politics, and (Y/N) stuck her tongue out, a true sign of her childishness.

The Ravenclaw Head Boy saw this as more proof that dispelled the rumours. Their interaction wasn't one of lovers, not even of friends. Tom dismissed and insulted her, but (Y/N) was, as Tom described, too daft to care or simply oblivious. The Ravenclaw Head Boy decided she was the former.

As the game officially started, (Y/N) started cheering her team, name-dropping every player as they flew by, earning a wave back. Tom remained standing and pulled out a small book titled 'Mastery and Expertise in Highly Advanced Potion Making' and refused to watch the game. Every particularly loud cheer earned (Y/N) a disapproving glance from Tom before he buried his nose back in his book. Tom had never tolerated loud disruptions and (Y/N) was no exception. (Y/N), however, clearly couldn't care less at his look.

For the first thirty minutes of the game, this attitude remained.

It wasn't until a Gryffindor beater hit the bludger incorrectly, a clear desperate move to stop himself from being struck, that the rhythm changed. The bludger was flying practically at Mach speed straight to the head student stands. The Ravenclaw Head Boy couldn’t even process a thought, much less a scream to get down before (Y/N) undoubtedly would be hit.

But she wasn't.

(Y/N)'s breath barely hitched before Tom looked up, seeing the bludger, and immediately pushed her down. (Y/N) couldn't even mutter out Tom's name before she was safely out of the way. The Ravenclaw Head Boy noticed just how inhumanly fast Tom had reacted. In an instant, the bludger crashed violently through the stands, leaving a large hole and even larger cracks in the backing. Splinters and dust floated and showered the head students as Tom kept (Y/N)'s head down. Furthest from the debris, the Ravenclaw Head Boy was safe as he was closer to the edges, same for the head girl, but the sheer chaos of it all still left his mind hazy and skin paled. Tom quickly looked up, searching the area for immediate danger. A shattered stand held them up with broken beams threatening splinters or worse. At the very least, the bludger was gone and it was safe to stand again. Tom gave a quick look towards all the student heads’ direction, including Ravenclaw Head Boy's, a glance to see he wasn't injured, then turned back to (Y/N). As she rose, there was the slightest shake in her body, like she was trying to be brave, but couldn't quite hold it. She stared up at Tom, eyes slightly widened and mouth ajar as strands of her hair slowly fell on her face. Somewhere in that shocked reaction, the Ravenclaw Head Boy almost mistook her expression for gratitude.

But that was absurd. Tom hadn’t saved (Y/N). He’d saved a student, the head girl of Slytherin. He’d have pushed any student out of the way, the Ravenclaw Head Boy concluded.

He went back to watching the duo. Tom gave one last look before turning to the Gryffindor player and a furious glare.

Tom breathed out slowly, "Are you that half-baked that you fail to hit a bludger correctly?" He spat, venom lacing his tone. This wasn't anything new, whenever a student failed to obey school rules or had nearly been the cause of a slip, Tom was ready to curse them with one single line. He deserved the lashing, the Ravenclaw Head Boy thought. But Tom continued. "Your infantile abilities nearly caused injury to your heads of houses." Tom stood straighter, one hand pointing at the Gryffindor player, one remaining firmly on (Y/N). "Your acceptance into the Gryffindor Quidditch Team wasn't a mistake, but a clear joke." Tom loved scolding those he viewed beneath him, the Ravenclaw Head Boy thought... and he agreed with Tom that this one deserved more than his usual one-liners.

Tom was ready to spew more bile at the Gryffindor player until Professor Hooch flew over to assess the damage.

"Alright, alright, let me see." Hooch quickly looked over each student, barely passing a glance to each, nodding. "Nothing's broken. Prewitt!" She turned to face the Gryffindor player. "You're out for the rest of the game." The Gryffindor player sighed and started to fly down as Tom scoffed. Hooch turned back to face the students. "If you feel sick, please attend the Hospital Wing." She turned back to the players. "Otherwise, resume in two minutes from the middle!" The players and rest of the cohorts cheered as Tom started to push (Y/N) and escort her out.

"Get out." He commanded sternly.

"Tom, I'm okay!" (Y/N) tried to reason as Tom remained on his path.

"We're leaving this pathetic match before more damage can be done by moronic leeches." Tom continued to usher her out, one hand firm around her shoulders due to her trying to fight out of his grasp. The Gryffindor heads booed the Slytherins as Tom glared hard enough to make one whimper. (Y/N) kept trying to plead with Tom, but he was having none of it, keeping a stern posture.

"You're so annoying!" (Y/N) whined loudly as she eventually followed.

"Watch your mouth and go." Tom again commanded as (Y/N) groaned, again, loudly.

How annoying for Tom that he had to escort his head girl out of the game because she was causing such a scene, the Ravenclaw Head Boy thought. It was an extra shame because he was having such a delight in proving his theory right. There was positively no believable scenario that Tom was capable of caring for such an annoyingly loud and disruptive girl.

Oh well, the Ravenclaw Head Boy sighed to himself. There was always next time to collect more data.

***

Neither Slytherin heads were seen until dinner in the great hall and rumours were circulating like wildfire. Tom had taken a bludger to his arm to protect his Head Girl, (Y/N) was seen kissing him after she was saved, Tom had pushed (Y/N) in front of the bludger; it was tiresome to the Ravenclaw Head Boy. Such frivolous lies went against all logic; there was simply no gain from storytelling which made him wonder why Tom put up with the rumours. It especially made him wonder just how different Tom would react to the rumours if he knew the truth. He could always tell him right now, after all he was sitting on the opposite table. Just that final seed in a litany of tiresome ones he endures through her. One seed too many to make the damn collapse and for him to break her feeble little heart like so many of the other pathetic girls he tired of so quickly. The Ravenclaw Head Boy looked over at (Y/N) and Tom and noticed that (Y/N) seemed unharmed, confirming to him that she was being dramatic. Tom of course, looked extremely annoyed at her.

"How ridiculous," Tom tutted, clearly about to hurl some well-deserved insults to (Y/N). "I'll be discussing with Headmaster Dippet our idiotic mandatory attendance."

… What?

The Ravenclaw Head Boy blinked in confusion before he focused back on the duo. (Y/N) had giggled, but Tom lasered his wrath on her. "And you, you're no better." (Y/N) immediately stopped laughing and let out a big 'Huh?!'.

Ah, here it comes.

"You looked like a coward. Leaders are meant to be looked up to. You looked like a child." He insulted as (Y/N) scoffed. That was more on par, thought the Ravenclaw Head Boy. Maybe right now was the right time.

"I nearly got hit by a bludger, but thank you Tom, you're so thoughtful." (Y/N) sarcastically said as Tom's eyes continued to check over her for any more injuries, something he kept having to do since she kept bringing it up.

"Grow up." (Y/N) mimicked his growled words as Tom glared harder to no effect as per usual. Daft, the Ravenclaw Head Boy called it. "Insolent." Tom said, practically agreeing with the boy’s thoughts. (Y/N) only continued to mimic him as Tom continued to tirelessly check over her just to stop her from whining. The Ravenclaw Head Boy could see Tom’s eyebrow arched in annoyance, now was definitely the time to enact his plan.

The Ravenclaw Head Boy stood up, head held high and arms by his side. He started to make his way to the Slytherin table, he’d have to go to the other end and make his way back, but that gave him more than enough time to figure out how to tell Slytherin Head Boy Tom Riddle that his stupid head girl was more trouble than she was worth. Maybe he could show Tom the overdue slip, he still had it after all. A month late – a month?! The hubris of the girl, the scene playing before him already in his mind – the loud shouting, the cold final word from Tom. Maybe he could slyly bring it up, see (Y/N) writhe and look down until Tom questioned her stupidity. Or better yet, he could ask (Y/N) where the book was, watch her dig herself into a deep hole, then reveal the slip, that would be genius! The Ravenclaw Head Boy smirked to himself as he turned at the end of the table, slowly making his way back to the duo, starting to hear bits of their conversation again. God, he couldn’t wait. He simply couldn’t wait to see (Y/N) have her heart broken!

Then he heard Tom speak.

“If you don’t quit complaining, I won’t give you that gift that I promised.” The Ravenclaw Head Boy stopped in his tracks. Did… Did he hear that correctly?

“Hmph, fine!” (Y/N) said in a sulking tone, slouching. But you could still see the half-smile she tried to hide peeking beneath.

The Ravenclaw Head Boy hadn’t moved since. Why was Tom getting her a gift? Why was he rewarding such indecent and childish behaviour? What gain would Tom even have from getting her something?! No, no, there had to be something he missed, something he overlooked. Tom? Giving something to others?! Gift?! He just needed to review the facts again. The Ravenclaw Head Boy realised he was standing near the middle of the Slytherin table, starting to gain stares, as he quickly walked back to his own. Now absolutely wasn’t the time, he’d have to find a better opportunity. There would have to be a better time to tell Tom.

Wait… that was it! That had to be it! Tom was simply waiting for the time (Y/N) would let her guard down before he unleashed his wrath. He wasn’t finished using her. That was it! The Ravenclaw Head Boy smirked once again, figuring out Tom’s plan and even feeling pride in it. He would give it another week until he gave Tom the opportunity he needed to rid himself of her once he’s done. A week, surely no more until he’s done with her. So, all he had to do was observe and wait until that time finally came. For now though, the Ravenclaw Head Boy could revel in his previous observation: The entire match and dinner was pure proof that the rumour of Tom Riddle dating head girl (Y/N) was irrefutably incorrect.

He spared one last glance at Tom and (Y/N) where he continued to insult her as she stupidly declared it a form of affection, earning her a disgusted look.

Exactly, The Ravenclaw Head Boy thought. It was impossible that the two were dating. The rumours would continue, undoubtedly, Hogwarts loved a ridiculous story after all. But the Ravenclaw Head Boy knew better. Tom Riddle did not love. He did not like. That was beneath him. He tolerated. He calculated. He used. And (Y/N), for all her intelligence, was just another stupid girl who had mistaken that for something more.

Tom Riddle was just simply incapable of loving such an annoying girl. He’d finish using her and break her tiny heart like all the others. It’s just a question of when.

Tags: @its-jennarose

[zombiexdlolz]

"Charming Chaos"

Tom Riddle x Reader ——— Description:

Tom Riddle Hated Three Things:

Hufflepuff

Muggle-borns

And the girl that somehow managed to be both.

But unfortunately for him, the more he tried to avoid her, the more she became impossible to ignore.

Angst with a little bit of fluff (if you squint your eyes) cuz I like em savory and sweet.🤤

———

———

Tom sat alone in the Room of Requirement, neatly stacked sheets of parchment covering the table before him. His quill scratched steadily across the paper, the sound blending with the distant hum of the castle beyond the walls. He glanced over another checklist, comparing it to the reference beside him before marking another task complete.

Everything was in order.

Quiet.

Just as he preferred.

Except…

The silence felt different today.

Tom paused, his quill hovering above the parchment. His eyes drifted over the neatly arranged schedules before settling on the final checkmark.

Another task finished.

He set the quill aside and leaned back in his chair. His gaze wandered across the table, where the usual stack of parchments waited in perfect order. Every schedule had been checked. Every report completed.

Nothing left to revise.

His fingers rested against the arm of the chair, his thoughts drifted back through the years. The corridors, the gardens, the Great Hall, the hidden passageways only he knew existed.

What else was there to see?

Tom leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as silence settled around him once more. He searched his memory, retracing every corridor, every hidden passage, every place the castle had offered him.

Then a single thought surfaced.

The Owlery.

Of course, he knew the Owlery held little interest for him. There was no one waiting for his letters, and he had no desire to waste his time writing one in return. Such things belonged to people who valued sentiment.

Still…

There was no harm in visiting.

If nothing else, perhaps maybe he’d find something useful.

———

He climbed the final steps, his gaze sweeping across the tower before him. Empty.

Good.

No students lingered between the rows of perches.

Tom stepped inside, his pace unhurried as owls came and went overhead. Loose feathers drifted through the air, carrying the faint scent of straw with them. He continued toward the last window, where the castle stretched beneath him and the distant sounds of Hogwarts barely reached the tower.

Perfect.

Or so he thought.

“Absolutely not!”

Tom stopped.

Your voice echoed through the tower, startling several owls into restless chatter.

“No! This one goes to my mum!”

A barn owl flew across the room with a letter hanging from its beak.

Right behind it was you wearing yellow robes.

“Mister Pickles!”

She pointed at the owl as if it had committed a crime.

“You give that back!”

The owl answered with a loud hoot before flying even higher.

Tom pushed himself away from the windowsill, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer. He wasn’t sure what had caught his attention.

What… was he looking at?

You then rose onto your tiptoes, both hands waving frantically at the owl, completely unaware of Tom’s presence.

“Mister Pickles, come back!”

The barn owl answered with another hoot, the letter still clamped firmly in its beak. It swooped past one of the wooden beams before settling on another near the ceiling.

“You know that’s stealing,” you huffed.

Another hoot.

“I’ll tell Professor Grubbly-Plank.”

The owl blinked.

It did not attempt to obey.

The girl sighed dramatically.

“You’ve changed.” You spoke, hands crossed as you found yourself sitting on the staircase in thought.

Tom watched the exchange in silence.

…Ridiculous.

His eyes drifted towards her robes.

Yellow.

Hufflepuff.

Then he noticed the smaller details.

The sleeves of her robes were worn, the stitching near one pocket carefully mended by hand. Not expensive. Not old enough to be passed down either.

His gaze drifted to the letter clutched in her hands. The handwriting lacked the neat precision common among wizarding families. It was simple, uneven.

His eyes narrowed.

A Muggle-born.

Of course.

Loud, careless. Making a fuss over an owl.

His expression remained unreadable. He had no interest in people like her.

In fact, she was beneath him.

Without another glance, he turned away.

The Owlery had become far less peaceful than he’d expected.

Just as he reached the stairs—

“Excuse me?”

He didn’t respond.

“Hey!”

Footsteps hurried after him.

“Can you reach something for me?”

Tom kept walking.

If anything, his pace quickened.

“I know you heard me.”

Silence.

By the time the words left your mouth, he was already stepping through the doorway.

You frowned.

“…Wow.”

You crossed your arms.

“That’s a bit rude.”

Still nothing.

Tom continued down the corridor as though you weren’t there.

Behind him, a quiet sigh drifted from the Owlery.

“Fine…I’ll just ask someone nicer.”

Good. Someone else could entertain her. Just not him.

Without another thought, Tom continued toward the castle, already dismissing the strange Muggle-born Hufflepuff from his mind.

Behind him, a loud hoot echoed through the Owlery.

Followed by—

“NO! MISTER PICKLES!”

He never looked back.

———

You watched him leave, your head tilting slightly to the side. Mister Pickles landed beside an empty chair, the stolen letter still tucked safely in his beak.

“What a strange person.”

Most students would’ve done something.

Laughed.

Rolled their eyes.

Said something.

Anything.

But him?

Nothing.

As if you hadn’t been there at all.

You turned back to the owl.

“Mister Pickles… you made me talk to an angry person.”

The barn owl simply blinked.

“Don’t look at me like that. You started it.”

A soft hoot answered.

You sighed before stepping closer, carefully reaching toward him.

“Come on… I need to send this.”

This time, Mister Pickles lowered his head, allowing you to slip the letter free.

“Thank you.”

You smiled, gently stroking the little scarf wrapped around his neck, the one you’d knitted for him yourself.

———

Tom had already forgotten about the incident.

Or so he believed.

The halls of Hogwarts were the same as always, students talking not far away, laughing, showing off. Pretending they were more important than they truly were.

He passed them without interest.

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter as students gathered for breakfast. Plates clinked against the long tables, conversations rose and fell, and owls swooped overhead with the morning post.

Tom sat among the Slytherins, a book lying open before him. His eyes remained on the page, though he hadn’t turned it for several minutes. His thoughts had wandered elsewhere, lingering on something he couldn’t explain.

“Hey, Tom.”

The voice beside him pulled him back.

One of the Slytherin boys leaned over slightly.

“I heard Professor Slughorn’s throwing another party for the Slug Club tonight.”

Tom closed his book with quiet precision.

“So I’ve heard.”

“They say a few Ministry officials are visiting.”

“They usually do.”

The boy grinned.

“You going?”

Tom looked at him for a brief moment.

“I was invited.”

“Right.” The boy chuckled. “Stupid question.”

Tom offered no response.

His attention drifted back to the Great Hall, his gaze sweeping over the sea of students more out of habit than interest.

Just as Tom lowered his gaze back to his book, a familiar voice drifted across the Great Hall. Against his better judgment, he looked up. Sure enough, the familiar yellow-and-black scarf caught his eye, followed by the unmistakable silhouette of the same Ridiculous Hufflepuff girl from the Owlery.

Again.

This time, she seemed to be in a hurry. A piece of toast was clutched between her teeth as she hurried toward the doors, weaving through the crowded tables without much grace. Before Tom could look away, your eyes met his. You smiled.

Random.

Tom offered nothing in return. His gaze shifted back to his book as though the brief exchange had never happened. The smile didn’t seem to bother you. If anything, you simply shrugged to yourself, deciding he was probably always in a bad mood before continuing out of the Great Hall.

The Slytherin boy beside him glanced toward the doors before looking back at Tom.

“You know her?”

Tom turned another page.

“No.”

“Hm.” The boy leaned back in his chair. “Well, She’s a Mudblood. Strange girl, if you ask me. Always hanging around the greenhouses, talking to plants and feeding random animals. People make fun of her all the time.”

Tom didn’t respond.

Tom never gave the girl another thought. Or at least, he tried not to. Days passed, and Hogwarts returned to its usual rhythm, yet somehow, she kept finding her way into his line of sight.

One afternoon, she was surrounded by a flock of birds after feeding them crumbs by the courtyard, laughing as they perched on her shoulders. Another day, she sprinted across the grounds after a mischievous Niffler that had stolen the bracelet from her wrist. Then, not even a week later, he caught sight of her beneath the tallest tree near the Black Lake, staring helplessly at the satchel hanging from one of its branches. Every encounter ended the same way. Tom walked past without slowing, and somehow, she always found a way out of her predicament. He never offered his help. She never asked for it again.

Yet, for reasons he refused to dwell on, he had begun to recognize her long before he saw anyone else.

It should have ended there.

Yet, during one of his evening patrols as Head Boy, a familiar voice drifted from the greenhouses. Dinner had already begun, leaving the castle unusually quiet. Curious only because no sensible student would choose the greenhouses over a warm meal, Tom glanced through the glass. There you were again, crouched beside one of the plants, carefully tending to it while quietly speaking as if it could understand you.

He watched for a brief moment, expression unreadable.

Of course.

Who else would spend dinner talking to plants?

“What are you doing here?”

The question caught you off guard. You looked up quickly, brushing the dust from your robes before facing him.

“Oh… um. Nothing.”

Tom’s expression remained unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be here. Get back to the Great Hall.”

You glanced back at the plant beside you, hesitating for a moment before pointing toward the Venomous Tentacula nearby.

“I know, but… please let me feed them.”

Tom followed your gaze toward the plant, then looked back at you. Of all the reasons he expected, this was not one of them.

“No”

The answer was simple, the kind you knew that he was right. You sighed, softly glancing back at the plant in apology before following him outside.

The walk back to the castle was quiet, the only sound between you was the steady rhythm of your footsteps against the stone path. You glanced toward him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“You’re the boy from the Owlery.”

Tom stayed silent, his expression unchanged. “I never got your name. My name is (Name), by the way.”

Tom Riddle.

A name he reminded himself he carried with importance.

Yet the thought followed soon after, one he had been taught to believe without question. He would never associate himself with someone like her.

A Muggle-born.

But you didn’t know that. You didn’t know the weight that blood held in his mind, and you continued speaking as though he was simply another student.

“I always see you, though. Even if sometimes you don’t help, I get that.”

Tom paused, turning his gaze toward you with a look of quiet confusion. Most people approached him with admiration, fear, or a reason behind their words. But you spoke to him as if none of those things mattered.

“You’re always quiet, though. Why is that?”

You asked, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. Tom looked over for only a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he looked ahead again.

To him, there was no reason to entertain pointless conversation, especially not with someone like you. A Muggle-born. The answer left him as naturally as breathing.

“You’re a Mudblood.”

His voice was calm, almost indifferent, as though he had merely stated an obvious fact. The words lingered in the space between you. You blinked, your pace slowing ever so slightly, not because you didn’t know what the word meant, but because you couldn’t understand why it mattered enough to be his answer.

“Oh…”

You fell quiet, your gaze dropping to the stone path beneath your feet. After a moment, you looked back at him with the same gentle curiosity.

“You’re silly for defining people by their names… or their blood. We’re still humans at the end of the day, aren’t we?”

Tom’s pace never slowed. His expression remained calm, almost detached, as if the answer had long since settled in his mind.

“No.”

The single word cut through the silence.

“You are a Muggle-born. You don’t belong in a world that was never meant for you.”

His voice held neither anger nor mockery, only quiet certainty. The smile on your face slowly disappeared, and you found yourself without a reply.

You lowered your eyes for a moment, quietly turning his words over in your mind. They stung more than you expected, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry. Instead, you looked back at him with the same earnest expression as before.

“But I’m here… aren’t I?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained fixed on the corridor ahead, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was as calm as ever.

“Unfortunately.”

The word settled heavily between you. You looked at him for a long moment before lowering your gaze with a small nod.

“…I see.”

Neither of you spoke after that. The rest of the walk passed in silence until the doors of the Great Hall came into view. You slowed to a stop, turning to face him one last time.

“Thank you… for walking me back.”

A faint smile appeared on your face, though it no longer carried the same warmth it had before.

“Goodbye”

Without waiting for a reply, you stepped through the doors and disappeared into the crowd of students. Tom watched until the last glimpse of your yellow scarf vanished among the sea of black robes before continuing down the corridor.

The encounter had ended exactly as it should have. A Muggle-born remained a Muggle-born, and there was no reason their paths should cross again. Yet as he walked away, the silence around him felt strangely unfamiliar, as though something had quietly disappeared along with the girl who smiled too easily.

———

Don't mind me, I'm experimenting lol😭

I've been busy with editing so I had to make up somehow, I hope you enjoyy ^^

[zombiexdlolz]

———

“Bound By You”

———

YANDERE! Tom Riddle x Reader

———

WARNING:

The Following Themes you're about to read are mature, any warning that triggers you, please read with caution.

18+, Emotional Abuse, Manipulation, Toxic, Possessive, Obsessive, Love, Modern AU!

———

Chapter 6:”Minds A Race”

———

The morning light slipped through the cracks of your curtains, a soft glow settling across your face. Your brows knit together as you slowly sat up.

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

Your eyes wandered around the small room before settling on the stuffed turtle beside your pillow. Without thinking, you reached for it and held it close as you sat at the edge of the bed.

A gentle knock broke the silence.

"It's time for breakfast."

The nurse's voice was as calm as always.

You answered with a quiet hum before slipping into your slippers.

By the time you stepped into the hallway, it had already come alive. Some patients chatted as they walked, while others kept to themselves. The smell of toast drifted from the dining hall as you followed the familiar route, your steps unhurried, the turtle tucked safely against your chest.

Kyle was already there, waving the moment he spotted you.

"(Name)! Over here! We saved you a seat!"

Vivi looked up from her tray and smiled.

"Morning."

You returned a small wave before taking the seat across from them.

Kyle had already finished half his breakfast, frowning down at his tray.

"I swear they gave me less eggs today."

"They didn't," Vivi replied.

"They did."

"You said the same thing yesterday."

"Because they did it yesterday too."

You glanced down at your own tray. "...I think mine has the same."

Kyle leaned over to compare.

"...Huh."

He sat back with a dramatic sigh.

"So they're just against me."

Vivi rolled her eyes.

"They're not against you."

Before Kyle could argue again, one of the nurses entered the dining hall. She looked around the room before calling your name.

You looked up.

"Someone's here to see you."

Your grip around the spoon loosened.

"...My mom?"

The nurse smiled.

"I think she'll answer that better than I will."

Kyle gave you an encouraging grin.

"Go on. We'll save your seat."

You nodded, carefully setting your spoon down before following the nurse out of the dining hall. The chatter behind you slowly faded as the hallway grew quieter.

You already knew where she was taking you.

The nurse stopped in front of the familiar wooden door.

"You can go in."

You gave a small nod before wrapping your fingers around the doorknob.

The room looked the same as always. A small table sat between two chairs, sunlight pouring through the window and warming the floor beneath it.

Then you saw her.

She stood by the window with her back turned, as though she'd been waiting for a while.

"...Mom?"

She turned around.

The moment her eyes met yours, her face softened.

"There you are."

You didn't think. Your feet carried you across the room before your mind could catch up.

She caught you in her arms, one hand resting gently on the back of your head while the other rubbed slow circles against your back.

"I missed you."

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I missed you too..."

You buried your face against her shoulder.

She smelled the same.

The familiar perfume. The same fabric softener she always used at home.

It made your eyes sting.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands gently cupping your cheeks.

"Let me see you."

"You've gotten a little color."

"I've been eating."

"I'm glad."

She smiled.

"Are they treating you well?"

You nodded.

"The nurses are nice."

"And the food?"

You made a face.

"The soup still tastes weird."

A laugh escaped her.

"I knew it. It never changes."

You tilted your head.

"You've had it before?"

She paused.

"…Once."

Before you could ask another question, she reached for the stuffed turtle tucked beneath your arm.

"You still bring him everywhere."

You looked down.

"He keeps me company."

She brushed a wrinkle from its tiny shirt.

"I noticed. You've been changing his clothes."

A small smile crept onto your face.

"I like dressing him."

"I can tell."

Her fingers lingered on the little ribbon tied around its neck.

"It suits him."

You looked up at her.

"…Thank you."

She blinked.

"For what?"

"The gifts. The books… the chocolates… the ribbon."

"I knew they were from you."

Her smile faded into something smaller.

Gentler.

She lowered her eyes for a moment before looking back at you.

"…They weren't."

You frowned.

"What?"

"I wanted them to be," she admitted quietly. "But I can't take credit for something I didn't do."

Your grip around the turtle tightened.

"…Then who sent them?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached for your hand, her thumb brushing gently across your knuckles.

"I've been meaning to tell you."

"I just…"

She smiled nervously.

"I wasn't sure how."

Something about the way she avoided your eyes made your stomach twist.

You looked down.

That's when you noticed it.

A silver band resting neatly on her left hand. Your eyes stayed on it.

"…Mom?"

She followed your gaze, her hand instinctively curling inward.

Then she laughed softly to herself.

"I was wondering when you'd notice."

Her fingers brushed over the ring, the smile on her face different this time.

Nervous.

Hopeful.

"…There's someone I'd like you to know about."

You looked between her and the ring once more.

"…Who is he?"

Your mother lowered her eyes, gently turning the ring with her thumb.

"His name is David."

A small smile found its way onto her face.

"We met about a year ago."

You stayed quiet, listening.

"He's… patient."

"He makes me laugh."

"And…"

She let out a soft breath.

"He's been helping me through a lot."

You nodded slowly.

"The gifts…"

"They were from him?"

She smiled.

"Most of them."

"The turtle's clothes. The books. The little chocolates you like."

"He always asked if you smiled when they arrived."

Your fingers tightened around the stuffed turtle.

"…He knows about me?"

"He does."

"I've told him everything."

You looked down.

Everything.

The word echoed in your mind.

Your panic attacks.

The nights you couldn't sleep.

The reason you were here.

Everything.

"He doesn't think you're strange."

Your mother reached across the table, gently taking your hand.

"He was actually the one who suggested the turtle needed more clothes."

A quiet laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

"…Really?"

She laughed too.

"I told him the same thing you would've."

"'He already has enough.'"

A small smile lingered on your face. The room felt lighter, if only for a little while.

Your mother looked at you carefully.

"There is… one more thing."

The smile slowly left her face.

You felt your own begin to fade.

She took a slow breath.

"A few months ago..."

"We got married."

The words hung between the two of you.

You stared at her.

Not because you were angry.

Just...

Surprised.

"You..."

Your voice came out quieter than you expected.

"...You're married?"

She nodded.

"I am."

You looked at the ring again before looking back at her. A dozen questions crowded your mind, yet none of them made it past your lips.

Your eyes remained fixed on the ring.

"...Why didn't you tell me?"

Your mother let out a small sigh.

"I wanted to."

"I really did."

"But every time I visited..."

She smiled sadly.

"...I wanted our time together to be about you."

You looked down at the turtle in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the stitching on its shell.

"I'm sorry."

Your mother's brows knitted together.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I don't know."

The answer came before you could think.

She reached across the table, gently taking your hands into hers.

"You don't have to apologize."

"I should've told you sooner."

You slowly nodded.

The room grew quiet.

Your mother glanced toward the window before looking back at you.

"There is one more thing."

Your heart sank.

She noticed the change in your expression and quickly smiled.

"It's nothing bad."

"We're moving into a new house."

"It isn't far."

"But it'll take a little while to get everything settled."

You listened carefully.

"There'll be boxes everywhere."

She laughed softly.

"I don't even know where half of my things are."

"I'll be busy for a little while."

Your fingers tightened around the turtle.

"…How long?"

"I'm not sure."

"A few weeks, maybe."

"I'll still visit."

She squeezed your hands.

"I promise."

"If I can't come one week, I'll come the next."

"And I'll write to you."

"I won't stop visiting."

"I could never do that."

You wanted to believe her.

You really did.

"…Will he come too?"

Your mother smiled.

"If you'd like him to."

"He wants to meet you."

"He keeps asking about you."

You looked away. The words should've felt like a relief. Someone outside your family, ready to accept you.

But why did it hurt so much?

"I don't know him."

"You don't."

She nodded.

"And you don't have to decide anything today."

"You'll meet him when you're ready."

A knock came from the door.

The nurse peeked inside.

"I'm sorry to interrupt."

"We have about five minutes left."

Your mother gave a small nod.

"Thank you."

The nurse quietly closed the door again.

Your mother looked back at you.

Five minutes.

It suddenly didn't feel like enough.

Neither of you spoke for a while. The ticking of the clock filled the room instead.

Your mother reached into her bag.

"I almost forgot."

She pulled out a small paper bag and placed it on the table.

"I brought these for you."

You peeked inside.

A few of your favorite chocolates.

A new ribbon.

And a small knitted sweater.

You smiled faintly.

"…It's for Turtle."

"I know."

She laughed.

"I think he's starting to have more clothes than you."

You carefully held up the tiny sweater.

"It's cute."

"I thought so too."

She watched as you folded it neatly and tucked it back into the bag.

"I'll put it on him later."

"I'd like to see that."

Another knock interrupted the room.

The nurse opened the door just enough to peek inside.

"Time's up."

The words settled heavily between the two of you.

Your mother stood first.

You followed a second later.

She stepped closer and pulled you into another hug.

You held onto the back of her cardigan, just a little tighter than before.

"I'll visit soon."

You nodded against her shoulder.

"I promise."

Another nod.

She gently pulled away, her hands lingering on your shoulders.

"You'll be okay."

"…Okay."

"You'll keep eating?"

"…Okay."

"You'll take your medicine?"

"…Okay."

She smiled.

"And you'll write to me if you miss me?"

You looked down.

"…Can I write whenever I want?"

Her expression softened.

"As many letters as you want."

"I'll read every single one."

You finally looked back at her.

"…Really?"

"Really."

She brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'll always make time for you."

The nurse waited quietly by the door. Your mother took one last look at you before turning to leave, but stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Then she looked back over her shoulder.

"I love you."

The words came so naturally.

So easily.

You smiled.

"…I love you too, Mom."

She smiled once more before stepping out into the hallway. The door closed gently behind her.

You remained where you were. The room suddenly felt much bigger than it had a minute ago. Your fingers found the tiny sweater inside the paper bag and held it against your chest.

The nurse's voice pulled you back.

"You alright?"

You looked up to find her waiting by the door. You gave a small nod.

"…Mhm."

She opened the door for you.

"I'll walk you back."

The hallway felt longer than before. You followed a step behind her, the paper bag tucked beneath one arm as your fingers curled around the tiny sweater inside. You wondered if Turtle would like it, and the thought made you smile…

Only for it to disappear again.

Your mother was married.

The words circled your mind.

Married.

You tried saying it in your head again.

It still didn't feel real.

She looked happy.

That should've made you happy too.

…Right?

The nurse pushed open the recreation room door.

"There you are."

Kyle looked up first.

"How'd it go?"

You looked at him before answering.

"…It was nice."

Vivi smiled.

"I'm glad."

You sat down beside them. Kyle immediately noticed the paper bag.

"Ooh."

"What's that?"

"My mom brought it."

He leaned over slightly.

"Can I see?"

You carefully opened the bag, and Kyle's eyes immediately landed on the tiny knitted sweater.

"…Is that…"

"For Turtle."

Kyle blinked.

"…He has sweaters?"

You nodded.

"And ribbons."

"And pajamas."

Kyle slowly looked at Vivi.

"I've been out-dressed by a turtle."

Vivi laughed.

"I think you have."

Kyle sighed dramatically.

"I need to rethink my wardrobe."

A small laugh escaped you.

The conversation carried on. Kyle complained about lunch, Vivi argued with him, someone across the room knocked over a box of colored pencils, and a nurse hurried over to help. Everything around you continued as if nothing had changed.

But your thoughts wouldn't stay still.

Your mother was married.

She was moving.

She said she'd still visit.

She promised.

…She promised.

You held Turtle a little closer.

The words repeated over and over.

She promised.

She promised.

She promised.

---

The rest of the afternoon drifted by. You couldn't remember what Kyle had been talking about or why Vivi laughed. Every word reached your ears… then disappeared just as quickly.

A hand rested gently on your shoulder. You looked up to find one of the nurses smiling.

"It's time."

You blinked.

"…Time?"

She nodded.

"Come with me."

You stood without another question.

Turtle remained tucked safely beneath your arm as you followed her into the hallway. Your thoughts stayed somewhere else, drifting past the white walls, the polished floors, and the nurses greeting one another as they walked by.

You stopped when the nurse opened a door.

"In you go."

You stepped inside.

Only then did you look around.

Several chairs had been arranged in a circle. A few patients were already seated, some staring at the floor while others quietly fidgeted with their hands.

You recognized Kyle across the room. He gave you a small wave while Vivi, seated beside him, offered an encouraging smile.

You smiled back before looking for an empty seat.

There was only one left, beside the window.

Your feet slowed.

Tom sat there, a book resting on his lap, though it remained closed this time.

He didn't look up.

You hesitated.

The nurse gently motioned toward the chair.

You quietly sat down.

The chair creaked softly beneath your weight.

Tom turned a page that wasn't there. His fingers rested against the cover instead.

The room slowly filled. One by one, the conversations faded.

A woman entered carrying a folder. She smiled warmly at everyone.

"Good afternoon."

"My name is Dr. Evans."

"I'll be leading today's session."

She looked around the circle.

"Today…"

"I'd like to talk about change."

The word lingered in the room.

You lowered your eyes.

Your fingers tightened around Turtle.

Without realizing it…

you had stopped hearing everything else.

Dr. Evans placed her folder on the small table beside her. She looked around the circle, giving everyone a chance to settle.

"I know change can mean different things to different people."

"Sometimes it's exciting."

"Sometimes it isn't."

Her eyes drifted around the room.

"So today, I'd like everyone to answer one question."

She smiled gently.

"What's something that's changed recently?"

"It can be anything."

"The weather."

"A hobby."

"A routine."

"Whatever comes to mind."

The room stayed quiet.

Dr. Evans didn't rush anyone.

Instead, she looked toward an older man sitting across from you.

"Would you like to start?"

He nodded.

"My daughter visited yesterday."

"She brought my grandson."

A small smile crossed his face.

"He's taller now."

Dr. Evans nodded.

"How did that make you feel?"

"…Old."

A few quiet chuckles circled the room.

The atmosphere eased.

One by one, the others shared. Someone talked about trying a new medication, another mentioned learning to knit, while Kyle proudly announced he'd finally beaten Vivi at chess.

"I let you win," Vivi replied.

"You say that every time."

"Because it's true."

Dr. Evans smiled.

"I'm sensing a friendly rivalry."

Kyle grinned.

"I prefer the word legendary."

Even Tom's eyes lifted for the briefest second.

Then the room settled again.

Dr. Evans glanced around once more.

Her gaze landed on you.

"And how about you?"

You looked up.

"…Me?"

She nodded.

"Has anything changed recently?"

You opened your mouth.

Nothing came out.

Your eyes drifted to the stuffed turtle in your lap.

The tiny knitted sweater peeked out from the paper bag beside your chair.

Your mother's smile flashed through your mind.

The silver ring.

I got married.

I'll still visit.

I promise.

"…My mom."

The words escaped before you could stop them.

Everyone waited.

You swallowed.

"…She got married."

No one interrupted.

Dr. Evans simply nodded, inviting you to continue.

"I…"

You looked down at your hands.

"I thought I'd be happy."

Your fingers curled tighter around the turtle.

"…I am happy."

"I think I am."

Your voice grew quieter.

"But…"

You frowned.

"…Why does it hurt?"

The room stayed quiet.

No one answered your question.

Dr. Evans didn't seem to expect anyone to.

Instead, she gave you a gentle nod.

"Thank you for sharing that."

"I know that wasn't easy."

You lowered your head.

Your fingers trembled slightly against Turtle's shell.

"You said you're happy for your mother…"

Dr. Evans continued carefully.

"…but you're also hurting."

You nodded.

"I think…"

Your voice caught.

"…I'm scared."

The words barely left your lips.

"What are you scared of?"

You stared at the floor.

The answer should've been simple.

But your thoughts tangled together.

The ring.

The new house.

The man you'd never met.

The promises she'd made.

I'll still visit.

I'll write.

Things will get better.

Your breathing became uneven.

"…She…"

You swallowed.

"What if…"

The room blurred.

Your hands gripped the stuffed turtle tighter.

"What if she likes her new family more?"

Your voice cracked.

"What if she forgets about me?"

"I know she said she won't…"

"But…"

You shook your head.

"I don't know."

"I don't know."

The words came faster.

"I don't know."

The walls suddenly felt too close.

Your chest tightened.

You tried taking a breath.

It didn't feel like enough.

Another.

Still not enough.

The room spun.

Someone said your name.

You couldn't tell who.

The voices around you became muffled.

As if they were underwater.

Your hands instinctively covered your ears.

"No…"

You whispered.

"No…"

Your breathing quickened.

Your vision blurred with tears.

"I want my mom…"

The words escaped before you realized you'd said them.

The room fell still.

Dr. Evans slowly knelt a few feet away, keeping her voice calm.

"You're safe."

"Can you hear me?"

You couldn't answer.

Your breathing was all you could hear.

A nurse quietly stepped into the room. No one moved closer. No one crowded you.

They simply waited.

Giving you space.

Across the circle…

Tom watched.

He didn't speak.

He didn't look away either.

His eyes remained fixed on you.

Observing.

Listening.

Your breaths came in short, uneven gasps.

The nurse remained where she was.

"That's alright."

"You don't have to talk."

"Just listen to my voice."

She spoke slowly, giving each word room to settle.

"Can you hold Turtle for me?"

Your fingers were already wrapped around him. You clutched him closer.

"Good."

"Can you feel the fabric?"

You gave the smallest nod.

"It's soft…"

The nurse smiled gently.

"That's right."

"Keep holding on."

Another nurse quietly opened the window a little wider. The cool afternoon breeze drifted into the room, and the air no longer felt so heavy.

Your breathing was still uneven.

But it wasn't as frantic as before.

"…That's it."

"You're doing well."

"One breath at a time."

The room remained quiet.

No one rushed you.

Kyle sat frozen in his chair, the usual grin on his face nowhere to be seen. He looked toward Vivi, unsure of what to do.

Vivi only shook her head.

"Give her a minute," she whispered.

Kyle nodded.

"…Okay."

A few minutes passed before your breathing finally began to slow. Your shoulders still trembled as you wiped at your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan.

"…I'm sorry."

The apology slipped out before you could stop it.

Dr. Evans offered a reassuring smile.

"You don't have to apologize."

"You became overwhelmed."

"That isn't something to be ashamed of."

You lowered your head.

"I ruined the session."

"You didn't."

She gently closed the folder resting on her lap.

"This session is for moments exactly like this."

The weight in your chest eased, if only a little.

"You don't have to keep everything inside."

You nodded quietly.

"…Can I go back to my room?"

"Of course."

The nurse stood beside you.

"I'll walk with you."

You slowly rose to your feet, Turtle remaining tucked safely against your chest.

As you reached the door, your eyes drifted across the room.

Kyle gave you a small wave.

"See you later."

Vivi smiled softly.

"Get some rest."

You managed a faint nod.

Your gaze shifted one last time.

---

The next few days passed quietly. You kept to yourself, though the nurses still greeted you with the same warm smiles. Kyle still waved whenever he spotted you, and Vivi never failed to save you a seat.

It was… strange.

You had expected things to change.

To become awkward.

Yet somehow, they hadn't.

The recreation room was unusually calm that afternoon. Rain tapped softly against the windows as you found yourself walking toward the familiar corner without much thought.

Tom was already there, a book resting in his hands.

You lowered yourself into the chair beside him.

Neither of you spoke.

The only sound between you was the quiet turning of a page.

You rested Turtle on your lap, absentmindedly smoothing the ribbon around his neck.

Another page turned.

"…You came back."

The words were so quiet you almost thought you'd imagined them.

You looked over.

Tom's eyes never left the page.

"…What?"

"Most people don't."

You frowned.

"Don't what?"

He turned another page.

"Come back."

Silence settled between you.

"…After embarrassing themselves."

Your hand froze against Turtle's ribbon.

The memory of the session came rushing back. Your chest tightened for only a second before you let out a slow breath.

"…Do you think I embarrassed myself?"

Tom finally looked up.

His expression remained unreadable.

"…Didn't you?"

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it again.

You thought about Kyle.

About Vivi.

The nurses.

No one had laughed.

No one had whispered.

No one had treated you any differently.

You looked down.

"…Maybe."

Your fingers resumed smoothing the ribbon.

"But…"

You searched for the right words.

"…Everyone was still there."

Tom said nothing.

"They still talked to me."

"Kyle still complained."

"Vivi still smiled."

"The nurses still checked on me."

You gave the smallest shrug.

"…Nothing really changed."

The room fell quiet again. Outside, the rain continued to patter against the glass.

Tom lowered his eyes to his book.

He didn't turn the page.

"…I see."

It wasn't agreement.

It wasn't disagreement.

It was just…

Something to think about.

A nurse called everyone for afternoon activities. Chairs scraped softly across the floor.

You stood, carefully lifting Turtle into your arms.

"I'll see you later."

The words slipped out before you could think.

Tom didn't answer.

You smiled awkwardly to yourself and turned to leave.

After you disappeared into the hallway…

Tom looked down at the page he'd been staring at.

He hadn't read a single word.

---

I'm sorry, I had to change the spacing and trim some of the descriptions a bit since Tumblr has limited formatting. I also had to tweak a few parts of the dialogue.

I feel like I'll probably end up editing most of my chapters to match this spacing. I'm not sure if it'll still keep my writing style intact, but I'll see how it goes.

Suspense and mystery have always been my favorite things to read and write, lol. :) More on Wattpad

[sophiariddlenott]

Heyyy!! So random request but as a tom girly I sooo look forward to your tom fics!! I was wondering if you could write one where we have a small, petty argument with tom and we ignore him, then when it’s time for bed we try to create distance like a pillow in between us or something?? And basically he’s acts all sassy/playful trying to get us to forgive him. I just loveee OOC tom, thank you!! <3

Petty Wars

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: After Tom secretly "fixes" your handwriting, a petty argument leads to the world's shortest silent treatment… and one very persistent boyfriend.

Warnings: Cuss words, one suggestive comment, fluffy sassy Tom 🥰

A/N: We love sassy ooc Tom. Thanks for the request!

Masterlist

————————————————————————

"Hm."

You wondered.

"Weird..."

You were sitting in the library, working on your Potions assignment, when you started noticing something unusual.

The moment you started writing on the parchment, it felt like your quill was moving on its own.

All your i’s were dotted. Your y's, which were usually too slanted, were straightened.

Your handwriting looked almost better.

Almost.

Why would someone charm your quill?

And then it hit you.

There was only one person who repeatedly complained about your handwriting.

Tom Riddle.

Your eyes narrowed.

You gathered your books and started walking to your boyfriend's dorm.

"Tom."

You walked in without knocking.

"Yes, love?"

He was sitting on his bed, reading a book.

"Did you need something?"

You sat on the edge of the bed.

"You didn't happen to have charmed my quill to write better... did you?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

He stared at you.

"Do you really repulse the way I write so much that you had to charm my quill to make my handwriting suitable to your tastes?"

Tom could hear your voice getting sharper.

"I do not repulse it, my love. It simply... bothered me."

"The way I write bothered you?"

"Yes."

"Well, you bother me."

You crossed your arms stubbornly.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"And I'm going to sleep in my dorm tonight, lest you have nightmares about my horrible handwriting."

"Oh no, you don't. You're sleeping right here."

"Tom-"

"No. I will throw you over my shoulder the minute you step outside this room."

He was dead serious.

"Fine."

"But no cuddles for you. Punishment for your bad behavior."

The corner of his mouth twisted up in amusement.

"My bad behavior?"

"Yes. You've been bad. So no cuddles."

"Whatever you say, love."

"No, we're fighting. You're not allowed to call me that."

Tom leaned forward.

"I'm not allowed to call my future wife 'my love'?"

"Not when she's mad at you."

Tom smirked.

"As you wish, wife."

"I'm not your wife yet, Riddle."

"Yet... I suppose I do have to resolve that situation soon, yes?"

You rolled your eyes.

"So let me get this straight..."

He sat closer to you.

"I'm not allowed to hold you the entire night... I'm not allowed to kiss or adore you the entire night... and instead, I'm to let you freeze and be uncomfortable while I lie beside you?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, rethinking your decision before firmly standing by your word.

"Yes. You're not allowed to do any of those things."

Tom didn't even look upset.

He looked amused.

"Now I'm going to ignore you. Starting now."

"You know... usually when someone ignores another person, they don't announce it."

You kept your mouth shut and stood up, walking to Tom's wardrobe.

You grabbed one of his shirts, intending to change into it before retiring for the night.

"You can change right here. It's nothing that I haven't seen before."

You walked into the bathroom, pretending not to hear his words before stepping back out in his shirt.

You sat on the bed, taking a pillow and placing it between the two of you, creating a barrier between his side and yours.

"And... this is supposed to prevent me from touching you?"

Tom eyed the pillow between you.

"A rather... strong defense, my love."

His hand reached forward, almost brushing against your cheek.

He leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours.

"So I'm not allowed to do this?" he murmured.

You swallowed.

It was just a stupid fight over a quill anyway... right?

No.

You were making a point.

He couldn't simply tease his way out of everything.

You pulled away from his presence and lay down, turning your back to him.

"Hm... interesting."

You heard shuffling on the bed before the soft sound of silk brushing against silk.

You looked over your shoulder.

He'd taken off his shirt.

Merlin help me.

This was unfair.

Who took their shirt off during an argument?

Apparently Tom Riddle.

You knew he was teasing you, trying to get you to break.

He lay on his back, his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

Dick.

You scooted closer to the edge of the bed, clinging to the blanket the two of you were sharing.

"Cold, love?"

"Hmph."

"You don't have to be. I'm lying right here. You could make use of me."

"Go away."

He chuckled.

Tom rarely chuckled.

It was deep and rich.

That bastard was doing it deliberately.

"I know those toes of yours are shivering."

Damn it.

He was right.

Your toes were shivering.

But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of being right.

"Shhh. I'm trying to sleep."

"You could always ignore me in the morning. Why let yourself be tortured?"

You thought for a moment.

You could ignore him in the morning.

And you were cold.

And you had gotten too used to sleeping in Tom's arms.

Without him, it felt... off.

"I can hear those wheels of yours turning in your head, love."

You huffed.

He was good at making you give in.

He always was.

“You had no right to try and make my handwriting better."

He tossed the pillow between you aside.

"And you can punish me in the morning."

"I'm still mad at you," you murmured as you let him pull you against his chest.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"I know."

"And I'm going to ignore you in the morning."

"I know."

You buried your cold toes between his legs.

"You're practically a heater."

He hummed in agreement, pulling you closer.

"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I shouldn't have charmed your quill without asking."

"I only thought it would help. I didn't realize it would upset you."

"I'm sorry."

You huffed.

"Touch my quills again and I'll hex you."

Tom smiled against your hair.

He knew he was forgiven.

"Noted."

————————————————————————

Tag list - @pbjts @bunnieeegohop @mooniez @ithinkaboutyouuu @yourstargirlyyy

[zombiexdlolz]

He’s such a tease🌝

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

i wanna see more angry Tom

i want to see him angry at the world, angry at himself, angry at the privilege of the students around him that have normal families and dont have to find scraps for food or affection.

i wanna see him hateful and greedy and angry at the whole world for not giving him what everyone else got.

[zombiexdlolz]

I agree😭, Tom really is the type to be greedy, he’s uncanny too. Charmingly Perfect and Precise in everything he does, especially when it comes to socializing.

[vanishonichka]

Tom Riddle

[zombiexdlolz]

TOM RIDDLE FICS:

—————

"BOUND BY YOU" (PSYCH WARD AU) Chapter 1:"A Not So Fresh Start" Chapter 2:”A Place Called Wool’s” Chapter 3:”Getting Used to It” Chapter 4:”Tom Riddle” Chapter 5:”Far Too Complicated” Chapter 6:"Minds a Race"

—————

[zombiexdlolz]

POV:

Tom Riddle Watching You Sleep👀

Forgive me for I’m still learning how to render😞

[zombiexdlolz]

ANNOUNCEMENT!

I may not be able to post my stories here on Tumblr anymore , I am currently focusing on wattpad :)

Here I can only post my arts of Tom and other Harry Potter characters soon!

Link for my story is here, feel free to check them out! ^^

Tom Riddle Appreciation 😋

He so Sirius lol

[zombiexdlolz]

———

“Bound By You”

———

——————————

YANDERE TOM RIDDLE X READER

——————————

WARNING:

The Following Themes you're about to read are mature, any warning that triggers you, please read with caution.

———————

18+, Mental Abuse, Manipulation, Toxic, Possessive, Obsessive, Love, Modern AU!

———————

Chapter 5: Far Too Complicated

———————

———

Far Too Complicated

———

The morning air felt different.

Cool.

Crisp.

A gentle breeze swept through the yard, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and damp earth.

The patients slowly scattered across the grounds.

Some wandered along the stone paths.

Others laughed as they tossed a worn rubber ball between them.

A few simply sat beneath the shade of old trees, enjoying the quiet.

You stood near the doorway, your stuffed turtle tucked securely against your chest.

The yard was bigger than you expected.

For a brief moment...

It almost didn't feel like a hospital.

"Alright, everyone."

A nurse clapped her hands together, gathering everyone's attention.

"Today's activity will be done in pairs."

Excited murmurs spread through the yard.

One by one, patients drifted toward familiar faces.

Kyle was already waving Vivi over before the nurse had even finished speaking.

"There!"

He laughed.

"I called dibs!"

Vivi rolled her eyes but walked over anyway.

Within moments...

Everyone had found someone.

Everyone...

Except you.

You looked around quietly.

The groups had already begun moving toward their assigned activities.

Your fingers tightened around the stuffed turtle.

Had you taken too long?

The nurse scanned the yard before her gaze settled on you.

Then...

She looked beyond your shoulder.

Toward the old oak tree standing near the edge of the garden.

You followed her gaze.

There he was.

Tom.

Seated beneath the shade, a book resting comfortably in his hands.

The sounds around him seemed distant.

As though the rest of the world simply didn't exist.

"Tom."

The nurse called.

He lifted his eyes from the page.

"You'll be working with her today."

Silence.

The breeze stirred the leaves overhead.

Tom closed his book with a quiet thud.

He rose to his feet.

Without a word...

He walked toward you.

He stopped a few feet away.

Close enough to be your partner.

Far enough to keep his distance.

Neither of you spoke.

The breeze drifted between you, rustling the leaves overhead.

The nurse approached with a small wicker basket in her hands.

She smiled warmly.

"Your task is simple."

She handed the basket to you.

"I'd like the two of you to collect ten different leaves from around the yard."

"They don't have to be perfect."

"Just different."

She glanced between the two of you.

"You'll have an hour."

Before either of you could respond, she walked away to check on the other patients.

Silence settled once more.

You looked down at the basket in your hands.

Then at Tom.

He had already begun walking.

"...Wait."

The word escaped before you could stop it.

He paused.

Only slightly.

You hurried after him.

"I..."

You struggled to find the right words.

"Where are we going?"

Tom looked toward the line of trees bordering the garden.

"The old trees."

His voice was calm.

"They'll have the most variety."

That was all.

He continued walking.

You stood there for a heartbeat before following behind.

Not beside him.

Just a few steps back.

Neither of you noticed the nurse watching near the veranda.

She smiled to herself.

"At least he's not walking away this time," she murmured quietly.

The two of you walked in silence.

Only the crunch of fallen leaves beneath your shoes filled the space between you.

You crouched beside a small patch of grass, carefully placing a maple-shaped leaf into the basket.

"...One."

You whispered to yourself.

A shadow fell over you.

Without a word, Tom reached past your shoulder.

His fingers brushed against a cluster of leaves still clinging to a low branch.

He plucked one free.

"...Two."

He dropped it gently into the basket.

You looked up at him.

"You know a lot about leaves."

"They're different."

His answer was simple.

"They're easy to tell apart."

You stared at the basket.

"...I think they all look the same."

For the first time.

The corner of Tom's mouth twitched.

Not quite a smile.

"If you look properly..."

He picked up another leaf, turning it between his fingers.

"...They don't."

He placed it into the basket before continuing down the path.

You remained where you were for a moment.

Looking at the leaves.

Then at the one still resting in Tom's hand.

Without realizing it.

You found yourself looking a little closer.

You hurried after him, the basket swaying lightly in your hands.

Neither of you spoke again, for a while.

The yard was peaceful.

The breeze carried the scent of damp soil, and somewhere in the distance, Kyle's laughter echoed across the gardens.

You found another leaf resting beneath a bench.

"...This one?"

Tom glanced at it.

"No."

You looked up.

"...No?"

"It's the same as the last one."

"Oh..."

Feeling a little embarrassed, you placed it back where you found it.

Tom said nothing.

He simply continued walking.

After a few more minutes, he suddenly stopped.

You nearly walked into him.

"What is it?"

Without answering, he crouched near a flower bed.

His hand brushed aside a few scattered leaves before he picked up a small crimson one hidden beneath them.

He held it out toward you.

"This one."

You carefully took it from his hand.

It was smaller than the others.

Its edges were uneven, fading from deep red to gold.

"...It's pretty."

Tom looked at the leaf.

Then at you.

"It's dying."

You blinked.

"...Oh."

He looked back toward the tree it had fallen from.

"That's why it's this color."

Neither of you spoke.

The cool air brushed against your face.

You gently placed the leaf into the basket anyway.

"I still think it's pretty."

Tom didn't reply.

The  two of you continued walking.

He didn't correct you.

The basket was nearly full.

Nine leaves.

All different.

You carefully counted them once more before looking around.

"Just one more..."

Your eyes wandered across the yard.

Nothing.

Every leaf looked exactly the same now.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips.

"I can't tell anymore."

Tom stopped beside a weathered stone path.

His gaze swept across the ground.

"There."

You followed the direction of his eyes.

"...Where?"

He pointed toward a leaf half-hidden beneath a patch of clover.

You crouched, brushing the grass aside before picking it up.

A smile found its way onto your face.

"I would've never seen that."

Tom looked at the leaf in your hand.

"You weren't looking."

You frowned.

"I was."

"You were searching."

He adjusted the book tucked beneath his arm.

"There's a difference."

You looked down at the leaf again.

"...I don't understand."

"You were looking for leaves."

His voice remained as calm as ever.

"I was looking at the ground."

You simply stared at him,  bewildered.

Then, without thinking...

A quiet laugh slipped past your lips.

It wasn't loud.

Nor was it forced.

Just a small, genuine sound.

The kind that escaped before you could stop it.

Tom's eyes shifted toward you.

He didn't speak.

He simply watched.

As though trying to understand why you had laughed.

The smile slowly faded from your face.

"...Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

The words left him so naturally.

That it took both of you a moment to realize he'd said them.

Silence settled between you once more.

But somehow..

It no longer felt quite as heavy.

———

The two of you began making your way back across the yard.

The basket rested lightly between your hands.

Ten different leaves.

Task complete.

The silence returned.

You didn't mind it as much anymore.

Your fingers absentmindedly found the sleeve of your cardigan.

You twisted the fabric around your finger.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

A nervous habit you hadn't even realized you'd picked up.

"...You do that a lot."

His voice was quiet.

You looked up.

"What?"

He nodded toward your hand.

"The sleeve."

You immediately let go.

"Oh..."

"I didn't notice."

"I know."

The answer came almost instantly.

You blinked.

"...You know?"

"You don't notice most of your habits."

He looked ahead as he walked.

"You squeeze your turtle when you're anxious."

"You bite your pencils."

"You apologize even when nothing happened."

He paused.

"And..."

His gaze flickered briefly toward your hands.

"You twist your sleeves."

You stared at him.

Unable to say a word.

How...

How long had he been paying attention?

Tom didn't seem to notice your surprise.

Or perhaps...

He simply didn't think there was anything unusual about remembering.

He continued walking as though he'd merely commented on the weather.

You remained frozen for a heartbeat before quietly following after him.

The basket suddenly felt much lighter.

Your thoughts...

Much heavier.

———

The nurse returned the basket to her side.

"Excellent."

"You managed to collect all ten."

Kyle walked over, brushing a few blades of grass from his pants.

"So?"

"How'd it go?"

You looked at him.

"It was alright."

"Just alright?" He laughed. "You spent an hour with Tom."

Vivi arrived a second later.

"Kyle..."

"What?"

She glanced at you.

"You don't have to answer that."

Kyle leaned over, trying to peek into the basket.

"Did he actually help?"

You nodded.

"He found most of them."

"Huh."

Kyle scratched his head.

"I honestly thought he'd leave."

You frowned.

"...Leave?"

Kyle looked at you.

"He usually does."

"What do you mean?"

"He doesn't like partner activities."

"If the nurses pair him with someone, he either asks to work alone..."

"...or finishes the activity by himself."

Vivi sighed.

"Not every time."

Kyle looked at her.

"Name one."

Vivi opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Kyle folded his arms.

"See?"

You turned your head.

Tom stood near the garden gate, waiting for the nurse.

His book rested beneath one arm.

He wasn't looking at any of you.

"...Then why didn't he leave today?"

Kyle shrugged.

"No idea."

Vivi quietly looked toward Tom.

"...Neither do I."

A whistle echoed across the yard.

The nurse clapped her hands.

"Alright, everyone."

"Let's head inside."

The patients slowly made their way toward the building.

Kyle walked ahead, talking about something that had happened during his activity.

Vivi followed beside him.

You lingered behind.

Your eyes drifted toward the garden one last time.

Tom had already disappeared.

———

The hallway buzzed with quiet conversations as everyone made their way back inside.

Kyle walked a few steps ahead, spinning around to face the two of you.

"So..."

He smiled.

"I don't actually know anything about you."

You blinked.

"...About me?"

"Yeah."

He pointed between the two of you.

"We've been hanging out for days."

"I only know your name."

Vivi laughed.

"He has a point."

Kyle rested his hands behind his head.

"I'll go first."

"I'm Kyle."

"Seventeen."

"I've been here for... six months, I think."

"You think?" Vivi asked.

"I stopped counting."

He shrugged.

"My parents thought this place would help."

"It has."

"...A little." He added, before following it with a comfort silence.

He looked at you.

"Your turn."

You hesitated.

The words caught in your throat.

"I'm..."

You quietly said your name.

"I'm eighteen."

Kyle's eyes widened.

"Eighteen?"

"I thought we were the same age."

"I get that a lot."

Vivi smiled.

"I'm nineteen."

"The oldest one here."

Kyle groaned.

"There she goes again."

"What?"

"You always remind me."

"Because you always forget."

Kyle rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Anyway..."

He looked back at you.

"What brought you here?"

Your fingers tightened around the stuffed turtle.

You stared at the faded fabric for a while before answering.

"...I have panic attacks."

The hallway grew quieter around the three of you.

"When they happen..."

"I can't think."

"I can't breathe."

"Sometimes..."

You swallowed.

"...I forget that I'm already eighteen."

Neither of them interrupted.

"I depend on my mom a lot."

"So when she brought me here..."

You looked down.

"...It felt like she left me behind."

Kyle's usual grin faded.

"I know that feeling."

He spoke so softly you almost didn't hear him.

Vivi reached over and gently squeezed your shoulder.

"You don't have to tell us everything today."

She offered a small smile.

"We've got time."

Kyle nodded.

"Besides..."

He smiled again, though this time it was gentler.

"You're stuck with us now."

A small laugh escaped you.

Vivi smiled.

"I'll take that as progress."

Kyle placed a hand over his chest.

"I knew I'd make you laugh again."

"You've laughed twice now."

"I think I'm winning."

"You were keeping score?" Vivi asked.

"I keep score of everything."

"You and Tom would get along." Vivi spoke, trying to contain her smile.

Kyle immediately shook his head.

"Nah."

"He'd probably tell me I counted wrong."

The three of you continued down the hallway together.

The conversation drifted to smaller things after that.

The favorite food.

The weather.

Kyle insisting that the soup at Wool's tasted different every Tuesday.

Vivi arguing that it was exactly the same.

You listened.

And this time...

You joined in.

————

Wattpad! :)

[zombiexdlolz]

———

“Bound By You”

———

——————————

YANDERE TOM RIDDLE X READER

——————————

WARNING:

The Following Themes you’re about to read are mature, any warning that triggers you, please read with caution.

———————

18+, Mental Abuse, Manipulation, Toxic, Possessive, Obsessive, Love, Modern AU!

———————

Chapter 4: Tom Riddle

———————

———

Tom Riddle

———

Everything had become a routine.

Morning arrived.

You ate your breakfast alone in your room.

The same tray.

The same quiet.

The same pills waiting beside your glass of water.

You swallowed them without a second thought.

The nurse smiled.

You smiled back.

It had become habit.

Soon enough, you found yourself walking the familiar halls of Wool's Home.

The scent of disinfectant lingered in the air.

Footsteps echoed against the polished floor.

Without realizing it...

Your feet carried you toward the recreation room.

As you entered the recreation room, Vivi caught sight of you.

A warm smile spread across her face.

"There you are."

She lifted a hand, gesturing toward the empty chair beside her.

"Come sit with me."

You paused for only a moment before quietly making your way over, the stuffed turtle held close against your chest.

"Looks like Tom got here before us again."

Vivi spoke quietly, her eyes drifting toward the window.

You followed her gaze.

There he was.

Just as always.

Seated by the window with a book resting in his hands, the morning light spilling across its pages.

"...Tom?"

Vivi looked back at you.

"You didn't know his name?"

You gave a small shake of your head.

"I've never asked."

A faint smile tugged at Vivi's lips.

"Tom."

She glanced toward him once more.

"Tom Riddle."

The name lingered in your mind.

Tom Riddle.

It sounded... ordinary.

"You guys talking about Tom—"

A voice cut through the whispers.

You turned toward the sound.

A boy, perhaps around your age, leaned casually against the table.

His red hair stuck out in different directions as though he'd given up trying to tame it.

A crooked grin rested on his face.

Before he could finish—

Vivi quickly covered his mouth.

Her sketchbook nearly slipped from beneath her arm.

Up close, you noticed the faint smudges of dried paint staining the sleeve of her cream-colored cardigan.

"Shh," she whispered urgently.

"He'll hear you."

The boy blinked.

"...And?"

Vivi lowered her voice even further.

"Just... don't."

"You know how people get around him."

The boy sighed dramatically before gently pulling her hand away.

"Fine, fine."

He leaned back in his chair.

This time, turning to face the two of you instead.

A grin spread across his face.

"I'm Kyle."

He extended a hand toward you.

"You must be the new girl everyone's been talking about."

Before you could answer...

Kyle leaned in conspiratorially.

"So..."

He glanced toward the window.

"...Has he actually said more than five words to you?"

You blinked.

"I..."

You glanced toward the window.

Tom remained exactly where he always was.

His eyes never left the pages of his book.

"...I don't know."

Kyle let out a low whistle.

"So he did."

"I told you," Vivi muttered, crossing her arms. "He doesn't just talk to people."

Kyle leaned back in his chair.

"Well... that's new."

"What do you mean?"

He looked between you and Tom before shrugging.

"I've been here for almost a year."

"I've seen nurses try to start conversations with him."

"They usually give up after a few words."

Vivi nodded in agreement.

"He keeps to himself."

"Always has."

You looked back at the boy by the window.

He hadn't moved.

Hadn't spoken.

Hadn't even glanced in your direction.

It was hard to believe the person they were describing was the same one quietly reading beneath the morning light.

Kyle rested his chin in his palm.

"You know..."

He lowered his voice.

"When I first got here, everyone told me not to get close to Tom Riddle."

You looked at him.

"...Why?"

Kyle opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

"...Depends on who you ask."

The room fell quiet.

Even Vivi didn't answer.

Somewhere across the room...

Another page turned.

You frowned.

Your fingers tightened around the stuffed turtle resting on your lap.

"...Did I do something wrong?"

Kyle's playful expression softened.

"What?"

"You all keep talking like..."

You hesitated, glancing toward the window.

"...Like he's dangerous."

Silence settled over the table.

Vivi looked down at her sketchbook.

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck.

"It's not that simple."

"Then what is it?"

Your voice came out quieter than you intended.

"If everyone is so afraid of him..."

Your gaze drifted back to Tom.

He turned another page.

Calm.

Unbothered.

"...Why does he always look so... normal?"

Neither of them answered immediately.

Instead, they exchanged a brief glance.

As though silently deciding who should speak first.

Kyle was the first to break the silence.

"When I got here, everyone told me the same thing."

"'Don't bother talking to Tom.'"

"'Don't make him angry.'"

"'Don't ask him questions.'"

He shrugged.

"I never found out why."

Vivi let out a quiet sigh.

"People always have a story."

"They say he was moved here because something happened."

"They say one of the patients disappeared after fighting with him."

Kyle snorted.

"And Mrs. Cole swears he can tell when someone's lying."

Vivi rolled her eyes.

"Mrs. Cole says a lot of things."

"But..."

Her smile slowly faded.

"There is one thing that's true."

Your grip on the stuffed turtle tightened.

"...What is it?"

Vivi looked toward the window.

"He never has visitors."

You followed her gaze.

Tom sat exactly where he always did.

A book in his hands.

Sunlight spilling across the pages.

No family.

No friends.

No one waiting for him.

Kyle spoke quietly this time.

"I've never seen anyone come for him."

Not once.

For reasons you couldn't explain...

Your chest ached.

You looked at Tom again.

He turned another page.

As though he hadn't heard a single word.

As though he had grown used to being the subject of whispers.

The conversation came to an end.

No one seemed eager to continue it.

Vivi busied herself with her sketchbook.

Kyle wandered off after another patient called his name.

Soon...

You were alone again.

Your eyes drifted across the room.

Tom remained by the window.

The same book.

The same chair.

The same expression.

You couldn't help but wonder...

Had he always been like this?

Or had this place made him this way?

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the worn seam of your stuffed turtle.

The thought refused to leave you.

No visitors.

Not once.

You wondered if he ever waited for someone.

The way you still waited for your mother.

A sharp voice suddenly echoed through the room.

"Tom."

One of the nurses stood nearby.

"It's time for your session."

Without a word, Tom closed his book.

He stood.

For the briefest moment...

His eyes met yours.

Neither of you looked away.

Then...

He simply walked past.

The faint scent of old books lingered in the air long after he was gone.

You found yourself watching the doorway.

Until he disappeared from sight.

The door clicked shut behind him.

The room slowly returned to life.

Conversations resumed.

Laughter echoed from the corner where Kyle had wandered off.

It was as though the room had been holding its breath.

Vivi quietly closed her sketchbook.

"You should probably stay away from him."

You looked at her.

"...Why?"

She hesitated.

"I don't know."

Her answer surprised even herself.

"I just..."

She sighed.

"Everyone does."

You lowered your gaze to the stuffed turtle in your lap.

Everyone.

The word lingered.

You thought back to the past few days.

The quiet afternoons.

The pages turning.

The pencil.

He had never raised his voice.

Never threatened anyone.

Never even looked at you for longer than a second.

Yet...

Everyone spoke about him as though they knew something you didn't.

The nurse's warning.

The whispers.

Kyle's stories.

Vivi's uncertainty.

None of it matched the boy you'd seen sitting by the window.

For the first time since arriving at Wool's Home...

You wanted to know who Tom Riddle really was.

Not the version everyone whispered about.

The real one.

The question lingered long after recreation had ended.

Even as you returned to your room.

Even as dinner was served.

Even as the lights dimmed for the evening.

Tom Riddle.

The name echoed quietly in your thoughts.

You couldn't understand it.

Perhaps...

That was what bothered you most.

———

The next morning came much like every other.

Breakfast.

Medication.

The familiar walk through the halls.

As you stepped into the recreation room, your eyes instinctively searched for the window.

He was already there.

Book in hand.

As though he had never left.

Without thinking...

Your feet carried you toward the quiet corner.

You had barely taken two steps.

"...You're doing it again."

Vivi's voice stopped you.

You turned.

"What?"

"You keep sitting next to him."

You blinked.

Only then did you realize where you had been heading.

You looked back toward the window.

The empty spot beside Tom waited just as it always had.

"...I didn't even notice."

Vivi studied you for a moment before giving a small smile.

"I don't think you do."

Your eyes drifted to the chair once more.

For a second...

You wondered if you should sit somewhere else.

If everyone was right...

Maybe you should.

Your grip tightened around the stuffed turtle.

Slowly...

You turned away from the window and made your way toward Vivi instead.

The chair beside Tom remained empty.

For the first time in days.

Across the room...

A page stopped turning.

The room settled into its usual rhythm.

Kyle was the first to speak, his voice carrying across the table as he excitedly explained the rules of a card game.

Vivi laughed softly, occasionally correcting him.

You tried to listen.

You really did.

But every now and then...

Your eyes wandered.

The chair by the window remained occupied.

Tom hadn't turned another page.

The book rested open in his hands.

Yet his eyes remained fixed on the same line.

"...You're distracted."

Vivi's voice pulled you back.

You looked at her.

"What?"

She smiled knowingly.

"You've looked over there at least six times."

Heat crept onto your face.

"I wasn't..."

"You were."

Kyle chuckled.

"I've never seen anyone stare at Tom this much."

"I wasn't staring."

"You counted?"

Kyle blinked.

"...No."

"...He did."

Kyle pointed toward the window.

Your heart skipped.

Slowly...

You turned your head.

Tom was looking at you.

Not for long.

Just long enough for your eyes to meet.

Then...

He lowered his gaze.

And turned the page.

As though nothing had happened.

The conversation around you continued.

Neither Vivi nor Kyle seemed to notice.

But you did.

For the first time...

You were certain.

Tom Riddle had been paying attention all along.

———

Please Check Out My Other Acc On Wattpad :)

[zombiexdlolz]

———

“Bound by You”

———

———————————

YANDERE TOM RIDDLE X READER

———————————

WARNING:

The Following Themes You’re about to read are mature, any warning that triggers you, please read with caution.

———————

18+, Mental Abuse, Manipulation, Toxic, Possessive, Obsessive, Love, Modern AU!

———————

Chapter 3: Getting Used To It

———————

———

Getting Used To It

———

Slowly he lifted his gaze, neither of you spoke.

Just the faint sounds of laughter and people laughing in the background.

You shiver,  his dark hair fell untidily across his forehead, as though he has long given up trying to tame it.

His features were soft enough to belong to an ordinary boy.

It was his eyes that lingered.

Quiet.

Watchful.

They held a kind of stillness that made it difficult to tell what he was thinking.

Before you could study him any longer...

He lowered his gaze back to the book in his hands.

You shifted slightly.

You couldn't bring yourself to care anymore.

Everything felt too overwhelming.

All you wanted was space.

A place where you could gather the pieces of your thoughts.

Yesterday lingered in your mind.

The way your mother's eyes followed you as you were led farther and farther away.

She had tried to smile.

But her eyes...

They had already given her away.

You swallowed hard.

Perhaps this had always been inevitable.

That thought hurt the most.

Quietly, you moved to the corner beside the window, close enough to the boy that you could hear the soft rustle of pages as he turned them.

You sat facing the wall.

Your legs folded beneath you.

Your hands rested in your lap, gently tracing the worn seams of your stuffed turtle.

Its faded fabric brushed against your fingertips.

The room still felt heavy.

Yet you didn't look up.

You couldn't.

Your eyes remained fixed on the only piece of comfort you had left.

Slowly, you lifted it to your face.

The worn fabric brushed gently against your cheek.

A small smile found its way to your lips.

It didn't last long.

But for a moment...

The world didn't feel quite so heavy.

But then a voice cuts through the comfort, it reminded you where you are.

The fragile comfort slipped away, reminding you where you were.

A nurse approached with a gentle smile.

One that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Would you like to join us?"

You followed her gaze.

Across the room, a group of patients sat together.

Some laughed over a board game.

Others chatted as they painted.

The room felt warm.

Lively.

Almost... normal.

Your eyes drifted back to the nurse.

You gave a small shake of your head.

Quietly.

"That's alright" the nurse said softly.

You nodded.

She walked away.

A page turned

You didn't have to look to know where the sound came from.

The room settled once more.

Laughter drifted through the air.

Paintbrushes glided across paper.

Someone celebrated after finishing a puzzle.

You listened.

But you couldn't bring yourself to join in.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the worn seams of your stuffed turtle.

The familiar rustle of paper caught your attention.

You glanced sideways.

The boy remained exactly where he had been.

One leg crossed over the other.

A book resting neatly in his hands.

Completely undisturbed by the noise around him.

It was strange.

He looked as though he belonged in a different world entirely.

One untouched by laughter.

Or conversation.

Or the need to pretend everything was alright.

You looked away.

For reasons you couldn't quite understand...

His silence felt easier to be around than everyone else's kindness.

Time passed in a blur.

The chatter around you faded into little more than distant noise.

You weren't sure how long you had been sitting there.

The soft rustle of paper broke the silence.

You glanced sideways.

The boy closed his book with careful hands.

He rose from his seat, brushing an invisible crease from his sleeve.

"Done."

The single word left his lips in a quiet murmur.

Not directed at anyone in particular.

As though he were simply announcing it to himself.

Without another glance, he walked toward the door.

And disappeared into the hallway.

You watched the doorway for a moment.

Then lowered your eyes.

The room suddenly felt... different.

Quieter.

You couldn't explain why.

"Recreation is over," a nurse called.

One by one, the patients began to leave.

You stood, clutching the stuffed turtle close to your chest.

Tomorrow would be the same.

At least...

You thought it would.

———

The room slowly emptied.

Chairs scraped against the floor as patients wandered into the hallway.

Some chatted as they walked.

Others remained quiet, their heads lowered.

You waited until the room had almost emptied before standing.

The stuffed turtle rested securely in your arms.

You weren't about to let go of it again.

"Come along."

The familiar nurse waited by the doorway.

You gave a small nod and followed.

The corridors of Wool's Home seemed quieter now.

The afternoon sun stretched across the polished floor, slipping through the tall windows.

Some patients lingered in the halls, exchanging quiet greetings with the staff.

Others walked with their heads down, lost in thoughts only they could understand.

No one looked the same.

Yet somehow...

Everyone carried the same kind of tiredness.

You wondered if yours was just as easy to see.

The nurse slowed as you reached your room.

"You'll have another recreation period tomorrow."

She unlocked the door.

"Try to get some rest."

You stepped inside.

The familiar silence welcomed you once again.

———

You stood in the middle of your room.

Not knowing what to do.

The silence pressed against your ears.

Your body felt heavy.

Without another thought, you let yourself fall onto the bed.

The mattress dipped beneath your weight.

You stared at the ceiling, hoping sleep would come before your thoughts did.

Instead...

Your mind wandered back to the boy by the window.

The mysterious patient the nurse had mentioned.

He hadn't raised his voice.

He hadn't been unkind.

If anything...

He had seemed ordinary.

So why did everyone keep their distance?

The question lingered.

Unanswered.

You turned onto your side, pulling the stuffed turtle close to your chest.

Its worn fabric brushed against your cheek.

You closed your eyes.

But sleep refused to come.

Instead...

Your thoughts wandered home.

You wondered what your mother was doing.

Had she already arrived?

Was the house quieter without you?

Did she still glance toward your room out of habit?

Or...

Had she already begun convincing herself that this was for the best?

Your chest tightened.

You buried your face deeper into the faded fabric.

"I'll get better..."

The words escaped in little more than a whisper.

"So you'll come back for me."

Silence answered.

The room remained still.

Only the distant ticking of the clock echoed through the hallway.

Somewhere beyond the walls, footsteps passed your door.

Then faded.

You wiped at your eyes.

Eventually...

Exhaustion won.

The stuffed turtle remained tucked safely in your arms as sleep finally claimed you.

Outside your room, Wool's Home carried on through the night.

Quiet.

Watchful.

As though the building itself never truly slept.

———

Days slipped by before you even noticed.

You couldn't remember the last time sleep had come so easily.

Perhaps it was exhaustion.

Or perhaps...

You had simply grown used to the quiet.

Each day followed the same familiar rhythm.

Breakfast.

Medication.

Recreation.

Dinner.

Lights out.

Again.

And again.

Life at Wool's Home had become painfully predictable.

The stuffed turtle never left your side.

Its faded fabric had become as familiar as your own heartbeat.

Then...

There was the boy.

Always by the window.

Always with a book in his hands.

You never spoke.

Yet somehow...

By the time recreation ended each afternoon, you found yourself expecting the quiet rustle of turning pages beside you.

And when it wasn't there...

The silence felt different.

———

Another day passed much like the others.

The same room.

The same window.

The same quiet.

A notebook rested open on your lap.

Absentmindedly, you traced meaningless shapes across the page.

Circles.

Lines.

Anything to keep your hands busy.

Your grip loosened.

The pencil slipped from your fingers.

It rolled across the floor.

Past your feet.

Past the leg of your chair.

Until...

It came to a stop against the boy's shoe.

Your heart skipped.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved.

Then he looked down.

He bent to pick it up.

His fingers lingered around the pencil for only a second.

His eyes settled on the worn bite marks carved into the wood.

"...You bite it."

Not a question.

An observation.

Heat crept across your face.

Without thinking, you reached for the pencil.

"..It's a habit." You spoke your voice barely audible.

He placed it gently into your hand.

"I know."

Before you could ask what he meant...

He had already returned to his book.

Before you could gather your thoughts...

A voice spoke beside you.

"Did you make him mad?"

You turned.

A girl, perhaps a year older than you, stood a few steps away.

She held a sketchbook close to her chest, her brows drawn together in quiet curiosity.

"What?"

She glanced toward the boy by the window.

"He talked to you."

You blinked.

"...Is that unusual?"

The girl let out a small, uncertain laugh.

"He doesn't usually talk to anyone."

Your gaze drifted back to him.

He was already reading again.

Calm.

Unbothered.

As though the brief exchange had never happened.

You looked down at the pencil resting in your hand.

"It was only a few words."

"Maybe."

The girl shrugged.

"But that's still more than most of us get."

You found yourself looking at him once more.

For the first time...

You wondered if the nurse's warning had been missing something.

The room fell quiet between the two of you.

"I'm Vivi."

She offered a small smile.

"I've been here for a while."

You nodded, quietly introducing yourself in return.

You hadn't introduced yourself to anyone since arriving.

Vivi gave a small nod, as if committing your name to memory.

"It's nice to finally know your name."

You stayed silent.

Only giving a small nod as you held the pencil in your hands.

Vivi tilted her head.

"I was scared too when I first got here."

She smiled to herself.

"I cried for almost a week."

A quiet laugh escaped her.

"It was embarrassing."

She looked around the room before lowering her voice.

"But... you get used to it."

Not because you want to.

Because you have to.

She hugged her sketchbook a little closer.

"I've seen you carrying that turtle every day."

"It's cute."

"...Does it have a name?"

You glanced down at the worn stuffed turtle resting in your lap.

Your fingers instinctively tightened around it.

"It was a gift."

The words came softly.

"So..."

You hesitated.

"I never gave it one."

Vivi nodded thoughtfully.

"I think that's nice."

She smiled again.

"It's like carrying a little piece of home with you."

But before Vivi could say another word—

A cheerful voice echoed through the room.

"Alright, everyone."

Several heads turned.

A nurse stood near the doorway, a clipboard tucked beneath her arm.

"Recreation is over."

"Let's head back to our rooms."

A chorus of quiet groans and playful complaints followed.

Some patients laughed as they gathered their things.

Others stood without a word.

Vivi let out a small sigh.

"Guess that's our cue."

She adjusted the sketchbook beneath her arm before offering you another gentle smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Her question lingered between the two of you.

You hesitated.

No one had asked to see you tomorrow before.

Not since you arrived.

"...Okay."

The word slipped out almost shyly.

Vivi's smile brightened.

"I'll save you a seat."

Before you could respond, she waved and hurried after the others.

Soon, the room began to empty.

The laughter faded into the hallway.

One by one, the patients disappeared through the door.

You stood, clutching the stuffed turtle against your chest.

Your fingers curled around the pencil still resting in your hand.

You had almost forgotten you were holding it.

A faint smile tugged at your lips.

It wasn't because of the pencil.

Or because of Vivi.

It was simply...

The first conversation you'd had since coming to Wool's Home.

"Come along."

The familiar nurse waited patiently by the door.

You gave a small nod and followed.

As you stepped into the hallway, you found yourself glancing back toward the window.

The chair was empty.

The book was gone.

Only the afternoon sunlight remained, spilling across the place where he had been sitting.

For reasons you couldn't explain...

The corner looked strangely incomplete.

———

I have this same fanfic posted on my Wattpad account! :)

[zombiexdlolz]

———

“Bound By You”

———

———————————

YANDERE TOM RIDDLE X READER

———————————

WARNING:

The Following Themes You’re about to read are mature, any warning that triggers you, please read with caution.

———————

18+, Mental Abuse, Manipulation, Toxic, Possessive, Obsessive, Love, Modern AU!

———————

Chapter 2: A Place Called Wool’s

———————

——

A Place Called Wool’s

——

The nurse led you through the building, her footsteps steady against the polished floor.

She pointed to each room as you passed.

“The dining hall is this way.”

“Medication is distributed after breakfast.”

“Recreation begins at ten.”

Her voice was calm.

Practiced.

As though she had said these same words countless times before.

You heard every sentence.

Yet none of them truly reached you.

Your mind lingered elsewhere.

Back to your mother.

The way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

The way her smile trembled.

The way she let go of your hand.

Your chest tightened.

For the first time since stepping inside Wool’s…

The truth began to settle in.

She wasn’t coming back today.

The corridor felt colder than before.

The voices around you faded into a dull murmur, as though the world had drifted farther away.

You wanted to turn around.

To run after her.

To tell her you would behave.

That you would be quieter.

Kinder.

Anything.

Anything at all, if it meant she would take you home. But the heavy front doors had already closed.

There was no sound of footsteps returning.

Only silence.

The nurse glanced down at you.

“You’ll get used to it,” she said gently.

It wasn’t cruel.

If anything, it sounded sympathetic.

Which somehow made it hurt even more.

After a brief silence, she spoke again.

“The patients here are generally kind.”

She offered a faint smile.

“Most of them, anyway.”

You glanced at her.

She kept walking.

“If anyone makes you uncomfortable, tell a member of staff.”

Another pause.

“…Though there’s one patient who prefers to keep to himself.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“Don’t take it personally if he ignores you.”

That was all she said.

Then she continued walking, as though the conversation had never happened.

The nurse stopped before a heavy white door near the end of the corridor.

“Most of the rooms in this wing are under renovation,” she explained. “Until they’re finished, you’ll be staying here.”

You glanced down the hallway.

Plastic barriers concealed the neighboring rooms. The faint scent of fresh paint mingled with disinfectant, while the distant hum of machinery echoed somewhere beyond the walls.

This end of the ward was noticeably quieter.

The nurse unlocked the door.

“If you need anything, press the call button beside your bed. Someone will come.”

She stepped aside, allowing you to enter.

The room was simple.

White walls.

A neatly made bed.

A bedside cabinet.

A narrow window that overlooked the hospital courtyard.

Everything was clean.

Everything was orderly.

Yet something about the silence felt… unnatural.

The nurse placed your belongings on the cabinet.

“Try to get some rest.”

The door closed behind her.

The lock clicked into place.

You stood in the middle of the room, staring at the empty walls.

Your mother’s warmth had barely faded from your hand.

But already…

It felt as though the outside world had slipped impossibly far away.

You sank onto the cold, hard floor.

A soft whimper escaped your lips.

Tears threatened to spill.

You drew your knees to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around the worn, threadbare stuffed turtle.

It was all you had left to hold onto.

You buried your face against the faded fabric.

It still carried the faintest trace of home.

Or perhaps…

You only imagined it.

Time passed.

Minutes.

Maybe longer.

You couldn’t tell.

Somewhere beyond the door, footsteps came and went.

A nurse spoke softly to someone.

Laughter echoed down the corridor.

Then faded.

The room fell silent once more.

Tap.

Your head lifted.

Another tap.

This time from the window.

You hesitated before stepping toward the window.

Below, several patients wandered the courtyard under the watchful eyes of the staff.

Some laughed.

Some spoke quietly among themselves.

One didn’t.

A boy stood beneath the shade of an old tree.

Perfectly still.

He wasn’t watching the sky.

Or the nurses.

He was watching…

You.

Your breath caught.

The distance between you was too great to make out his features.

Yet somehow…

You knew he was looking at you.

Neither of you moved.

The world outside continued as if nothing had happened.

A nurse crossed the courtyard.

Two patients laughed over a game of cards.

Somewhere nearby, a whistle blew.

But the boy remained still.

Watching.

A knock sounded at your door.

You flinched.

“Dinner,” a voice called gently.

You tore your gaze away.

“Coming…” Your voice barely even.

When you looked back—

He was gone.

As though he had never been there at all.

———-

The next morning passed in much the same way.

Breakfast.

Medication.

Then recreation.

The recreational room was larger than you expected.

Books lined one wall.

Board games were scattered across several tables.

A puzzle sat half-finished near the window.

Patients busied themselves in their own ways.

Some painted.

Some read quietly.

Others chatted with one another, their laughter light despite the place they called home.

They were… ordinary.

Not frightening.

Not dangerous.

Just people.

People who needed help.

Your gaze wandered across the room.

Then it stopped.

A familiar boy.

The same one you had seen standing alone in the courtyard.

He sat by himself near the window, a book resting on his lap.

Your thoughts drifted back to the nurse’s words.

“Most of the patients here are kind… except for one.”

Was this the boy she had been talking about?

You hadn’t realized it sooner.

You looked away.

The room buzzed with quiet conversations.

Someone laughed near the shelves.

Another patient excitedly called a nurse over to admire a painting they had finished.

It should have felt… welcoming.

Instead, it felt loud.

Too loud.

You weren’t ready to answer curious smiles.

Or the questions that would surely follow.

What’s your name?

How old are you?

Why are you here?

You lowered your gaze.

Your gaze lingered on the boy by the window.

No one approached him.

No one interrupted him.

You couldn’t explain why.

Perhaps it was curiosity.

Perhaps it was simply because every other corner of the room felt… too crowded.

Before you realized it, your feet were already carrying you across the room.

One step.

Then another.

You stopped beside him.

The afternoon sun poured through the window, casting a warm glow across the pages of the book resting in his hands.

Without meaning to…

You stepped into the light.

A shadow fell over the page.

The boy didn’t look up.

“You’re blocking the light.”

His voice was calm.

Almost absent-minded.

As though he were commenting on the weather rather than speaking to another person.

You froze.

He turned another page with practiced ease, still refusing to lift his eyes.

“If you’re going to stand there,” he murmured, “move a little to the left.”

Only then…

Did he finally begin to raise his gaze.

———

Please Check This Story On My Wattpad Acc ^^

[zombiexdlolz]

———

“Bound by You”

———

——————————

YANDERE TOM RIDDLE X READER

——————————

WARNING:

The Following Themes you’re about to read are mature, any warning that triggers you please read with caution.

———————

18+, Emotional Abuse, Manipulation, Toxic, Possessive, Obsessive, Love, Modern AU!

———————

Chapter 1: A Not so Fresh Start.

———————

You lay on your side, watching buildings and cars blur past the rain-speckled window. Your fingers twitched with uncertainty.

Your gaze drifted towards your mother. You couldn't see much of her face, but the quiet whimper escaping her lips told you everything.

She was crying

"Mother..." you called softly. "Where are we going?"

Her grip tightened around the steering wheel.

She didn't look at you.

Her eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, as though looking away for even a second would make everything fall apart.

Her lips parted.

Then closed again.

Rain drummed steadily against the windows as you waited for an answer.

For a long while...

She said nothing.

You shifted closer to the window, pressing your head against the cool glass

The streets grew unfamiliar

The shops disappeared first

Then the houses

Soon all that remained were long stretches of road and the occasional flicker of streetlights through the rain.

"Mother?"

This time your voice was quieter.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Still, she said nothing

Your Heart skipped a beat

Your breathing turned uneven as panic crept into your chest. You reached for your favorite stuffed turtle beside you, pulling it close as though it alone could keep you safe.

Your mother noticed.

"No..."

Her voice cracked

"No, sweetheart."

The words trembled as they left her lips.

One hand lifted from the steering wheel just long enough to wipe away the tears slipping down her cheeks before gripping it once more.

She already knew what would happen when the car finally came to a stop.

You didn't.

And that uncertainty frightened you more than anything.

The car fell silent.

Even the rain seemed quieter now.

You looked out the window.

The familiar streets had long disappeared, replaced by towering trees and winding roads you had never seen before. In the distance, wrought-iron gate came into view, its black disappearing into thick hedges.

The car slowed

Gravel crunched beneath the tires.

Your fingers tightened around the worn fabric of your stuffed turtle.

"...Mother?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she pulled the car into a parking space and rested both hands on the steering wheel.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then she took a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry."

Only then did you notice the building beyond the rain-speckled windshield.

Tall.

Gray.

Its windows watched like empty eyes.

Several people in white uniforms stood beneath the entrance canopy, waiting.

Your stomach sank

"...Where are we?"

Your mother didn't answer immediately.

Her head remained lowered, her lips parting ever so slightly before pressing together again. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, gathering what little strength she had left.

When she finally looked at you, her eyes were swollen from crying. Damp strands of hair clung to her face.

Slowly, she reached out.

Her trembling hand cupped your cheek, her thumb gently tracing your cheekbone as though trying to memorize every part of you.

Her breath caught in her throat.

You flinched ever so slightly.

Her touch was warm, but it did nothing to quiet the unease building inside you. The old, weathered building outside loomed through the rain, and something about it filled you with confusion... and quiet dread.

"This is Wool's."

You frowned.

"Wool's?"

She swallowed.

Then came a soft knock against the driver's window.

Knock.

Knock.

A woman dressed in a crisp white uniform stood outside, an umbrella shielding her from the downpour. She offered your mother a gentle, practiced smile.

Your mother rolled the window down.

"Good afternoon," the woman said quietly. "We're ready whenever you are."

Your mother's breathing faltered.

She nodded, unable to find her voice.

The woman glanced toward you, her smile never wavering.

"You must be Y/N."

"...Yes."

"It's nice to meet you."

You managed a small nod, clutching your stuffed turtle tighter against your chest.

The woman looked back at your mother.

"I know this isn't easy."

Your mother's lips trembled.

"Will... will I be able to visit?"

"Of course," the woman replied gently. "Once she's settled."

Settled?

Your brows knitted together.

"What do you mean?"

Neither of them answered.

Your mother turned the engine off.

The silence that followed felt louder than the drive had been.

She rested both hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

"I need you to listen to me."

Your heartbeat quickened.

"You've been very sick for a long time."

You frowned.

"No..."

"You have."

"No." You shook your head. "I'm not sick."

Tears rolled freely down your mother's cheeks now.

"They're going to help you."

Your breathing hitched.

"...You're leaving me?"

"No."

She reached for your hand.

"I'm trusting them to take care of you until you can come home."

The words should have been comforting.

Instead...

They made the world feel impossibly small.

Your fingers slipped from hers as the passenger door opened.

Cold air rushed into the car.

"Whenever you're ready," the nurse said softly.

You looked at your mother.

Then at the towering gray building waiting beyond the rain.

For the first time since the journey began...

You realized you weren't going home.

——

The scent of antiseptic lingered heavily in the air, mixed with the faint smell of rust and old wood.

Your footsteps echoed against the polished floor as the nurse quietly guided you and your mother toward the reception desk.

You couldn't help but look around.

Some patients sat in complete silence, their eyes fixed on the rain beyond the windows.

Others whispered to themselves, as though carrying on conversations only they could hear.

A woman softly hummed to herself in the corner.

No one looked happy.

No one looked angry.

They simply... existed.

Your fingers curled tighter around your stuffed turtle.

Whatever this place was...

It didn't feel like home.

"If you'll wait here for a moment," the nurse said softly.

Your mother gave a small nod before walking toward the reception desk.

You remained where you were, your stuffed turtle tucked safely beneath your arm.

A stack of papers was placed before her.

She signed the first page.

Then another.

And another.

Each stroke of the pen seemed slower than the last.

You couldn't hear everything they were saying.

Only fragments.

"...Yes..."

"...We'll make sure she's comfortable..."

"...Visiting hours..."

"...Of course."

Your mother lowered the pen.

For a moment, she simply stared at the papers, as though signing them had taken every ounce of strength she had left.

The nurse gathered the documents into a neat pile before offering her a sympathetic smile.

"We'll take it from here."

Silence.

Your mother's fingers curled tightly against the edge of the counter.

She nodded.

"...Thank you."

The nurse turned to face you.

"Hello, sweetheart."

You looked up, unsure whether to answer.

"My name is Nurse Evelyn." She crouched until she was at eye level with you. "Would you come with me?"

You instinctively stepped closer to your mother instead.

Her hand found yours almost immediately.

It was warm.

Warm enough to make you believe, if only for a moment, that everything would still be okay.

She knelt in front of you, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"You'll be very brave for me, won't you?"

You searched her face for an answer instead.

"When are we going home?"

The question stole the color from her face.

She swallowed hard before forcing a smile.

"Soon."

It was a lie.

You didn't know that.

But the tears slipping silently down her cheeks did.

Your mother's hands lingered against your cheeks for a moment longer, as though letting go would make everything real.

Then, reluctantly...

She stood.

The nurse offered you a gentle smile before extending a hand.

"Come with me."

You looked up at your mother.

"...You're coming too, right?"

Silence.

Your mother's lips trembled.

"I'll see you soon."

You frowned.

"But... you're coming?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she pulled you into her arms.

The embrace was tight.

Tighter than any hug you could remember.

You buried your face against her shoulder, the familiar scent of her perfume mixing with the faint smell of rain that still clung to her coat.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Mother."

Another pause.

Then...

You felt her arms loosen.

"No..."

Your fingers instinctively caught the sleeve of her coat.

"No."

She gently untangled your hand from the fabric.

"It'll only be for a little while."

The nurse stepped forward, waiting patiently.

Your mother kissed your forehead one last time before placing your hand into the nurse's.

The warmth disappeared almost instantly.

You watched as your mother took a single step backward.

Then another.

She smiled through her tears.

You smiled back.

Because you believed her.

Because you believed she'd be waiting outside.

The nurse gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

"This way."

You turned to follow her.

After only a few steps, something inside you urged you to look back.

Your mother was still standing there.

One hand pressed against her mouth.

Crying.

You lifted your free hand and waved.

She waved back.

The corridor turned.

The reception desk disappeared from view.

And just like that...

So did she.

——

I Have this fanfic on Wattpad too :)