#darkimagines

Thought at first he would get rid of her once he was done and she had his child but while seducing her actually completely fell Yandere head over heels in love with her

If that an okay request ? 🙂

Headcanons to Yandere Tom Riddle Babytrapping Reader:

WARNINGS: yandere, pregnancy, baby trapping, non-con (reader isn't aware that it's tom), implied depression, mentions of torture, some angst, mature language, mentions of blackmail, manipulation, toxic relationship, mentions of war, misogyny, abandonment, implied smut, mentions of self harm (from tom's side), etc.

SUMMARY: in which tom riddle pretended to be your boyfriend through polyjuice potion to get the heir he always wanted, but ended up falling for you in the process.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is a great request and i spent a lot of time writing this one specifically. hope you like it! should i make it in a story format rather than a headcanons? it's quite interesting. miss reader knows more than being said, i'll probably make a part ii with her perspective too.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Before you go, have a glass of wine or better yet, recommend a good bottle. any kind of message is always a delight.

Tom Riddle needed an heir. Well, Lord Voldemort did, to be precise. Tom didn't care for such things as a family, seeing that he had caused pain and torture to so many of them and witnessed how even a bit of suffering could change their minds and loyalties over their own flesh and blood.

It was amusing for him to see, of course. However, he needed someone to continue his legacy. Though still in search of immortality, he knew the importance of an heir and loyal allies—he could even marry off his children if needed to secure loyalty. But one child would suffice for his long-term plans.

But this proved to be a rather difficult task, even for Tom. Not that he had any fertility issues—in fact, he was rather potent—but the main issue was that, while his goal was simply to have a child, he found himself searching for potential partners as though he were actually planning to marry them.

He certainly wasn't, or at least he had no intention of doing so, but the genes of his future child were important. He didn't want a wife to take care of, as he didn't believe in love, and from what he had learned from his mother's experience, he refused to sink as low as she had for the sake of something as foolish as love.

Tom needed a plan to quickly find a suitable carrier for his child. That was when you came to mind.

Sure, he could choose a Lestrange or even a Black. His most devoted followers would certainly be eager to bear his heir, viewing it as an honour and, perhaps, a potential source of leverage against him. However, you were the best choice out of all of them.

Tom had first taken notice of you at Hogwarts when you surpassed his grades in your first year, despite him already being the top student in the class. Year after year, the rivalry only grew fiercer as the two of you competed for first place. Yet what infuriated him most was your complete indifference toward him.

One would think that losing first place by such a narrow margin would breed resentment, but you never seemed to care all that much. You minded your own business, focused on your studies, and spent your time helping others whenever you could. It puzzled Tom.

He had always been polite and charming toward you, yet it was almost as though you were under some sort of Repellent Charm that compelled you to avoid him at every opportunity.

It irritated him for a time, but he eventually decided to turn a blind eye to you. It wasn't as if you were preventing any of his schemes anyway—almost as if you were deliberately avoiding them, never quite ending up involved in the ones he orchestrated. What made it even more frustrating was that, aside from your grades, you also tended to shy away from the spotlight that he so frequently occupied.

Whether it be the Slug Club or other extracurricular activities. Charms, he noticed, was your area of expertise, while Potions was his. Even then, you never seemed interested in showing off your abilities. Then again, perhaps some people simply weren't born for the spotlight and charm that came so naturally to Tom.

Of course, the Death Eaters continued to persuade him to choose one of their family members, but Tom's decision had already been made. All that remained was to gather more information about you and find you. The problem arose, however, when you ended up getting in the way of his plans after all by secretly joining Dumbledore's allies and helping them capture his supporters.

It wouldn't have mattered much if it weren't for the fact that he had underestimated just how clever you had been all this time. Suddenly, your behavior toward him made far more sense—you had likely suspected him from the very beginning and had been planning far ahead to stand against him.

It was insane of him to have ever considered recruiting you as one of his Death Eaters. Yes, Tom had almost broken one of his own rules for you. You were a muggle lover and supporter, yet he found your abilities far more valuable than your beliefs and had attempted to recruit you once.

But you always refused to speak to him before he could even start a conversation. It was certainly humiliating, as you were probably the first woman to reject him so thoroughly. The only other person who had never been fooled by his charms was Dumbledore, but that was an entirely different matter, as he was one of the very few people who had known the child Tom had been at the orphanage.

So, Tom wasn't surprised when Abraxas returned with information about you—that you had a muggle-born boyfriend and lived quietly in London. He suspected you were there to stay close as one of Dumbledore's informants, keeping an eye on the happenings of the Muggle world.

But of course, you just had to have a muggle-born wizard for a boyfriend. Someone as powerful as you didn't want someone as powerful as him? What a laugh.

Tom could easily overpower that insignificant boyfriend of yours, and he did when the man was walking home late one night. Tom kidnapped him and entertained himself with a little game of the Cruciatus Curse. He was getting bored, after all, without a worthy opponent.

Still, he had to remain patient for the sake of his plan, so he kept your boyfriend alive in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

His plan was simple, really. All he had to do was take your boyfriend's hair and use it to brew a powerful Polyjuice Potion of his own making, one that would last for twelve hours. He made sure to prepare enough of a supply to last several months and kept it well hidden.

He would only need to return every week to collect more of the man's hair and maintain the disguise. A few months should be enough to ensure you were already carrying his child and safely past the first trimester, the riskiest stage of any pregnancy. Tom couldn't leave before then, as it could risk losing the fetus.

So he would simply endure a little longer, kill your boyfriend, wait several more months until his heir was finally born, and then kill you.

Over the past several weeks, Tom had also observed your boyfriend's behavior and habits to ensure you wouldn't grow suspicious. You were a clever witch, one he was no longer willing to underestimate for a plan as crucial as this.

And so, he arrived at your home under the pretense of being injured. It was all to give you the illusion of control, of course.

Tom inflicted several severe wounds upon himself, knowing they could be easily healed by charms as powerful as yours. A worthy sacrifice, and one that would make for a convincing performance. He was an excellent actor, after all.

He had your boyfriend's tortured screams to use as reference, and as you desperately patched him up with healing magic, fear and concern written plainly across your face, Tom played his role flawlessly.

You were far too consumed by the fear of losing your boyfriend to realize that it wasn't him standing before you. When you asked what had happened, Tom told you that Death Eaters had attacked him and somehow discovered that the two of you were among Dumbledore's allies.

You cursed their existence and immediately wanted to investigate further, but, under the guise of your boyfriend, Tom pleaded with you. He claimed he was worried for your safety and urged you both to leave London for a while until the Death Eaters stopped hunting them.

It took some convincing. Tom had to admit you were just as stubborn as you had been during your Hogwarts years, but eventually, albeit reluctantly, you agreed. His injuries appeared severe enough to leave you with little room to argue. It was all part of Tom's plan.

Killing two birds with one stone, he would call it. Your absence would mean fewer of his Death Eaters being captured, giving Rosier and Malfoy more time to locate the rest who had already been taken. More importantly, distancing you from Dumbledore and your friends allowed Tom greater control over your perception of the situation.

Now, all that remained was to proceed with his true objective. Tom had Malfoy gather more information about your relationship. It turned out the two of you had been dating for years, even back at Hogwarts, though you had kept it hidden because you valued your privacy.

In hindsight, he supposed he should have known. That muggle-born wizard had always stolen glances at you during class. Well, it didn't matter now.

But living with you in a small cottage in the countryside presented Tom with another problem. You constantly asked where he had been during the attack. Tom suspected you intended to pass the information along to Dumbledore, so he was careful to give answers that revealed as little as possible, always playing coy.

There were also moments when he caught you staring at him a little longer than usual. Was that normal for couples? Or were you beginning to grow suspicious? Tom knew it was only a matter of time before you did, the longer you remained together.

So he blamed it on the head injury, claiming it had left his memory unreliable. The excuse proved useful, though it delayed his plan somewhat.

Still, through it all, you remained as gentle, kind, and loving toward him as ever. It was a stark contrast to the way you had treated Tom himself, but now he saw what you were truly capable of. In return, he treated you with the same gentleness—not out of affection, but because it was part of his mission.

He had to keep earning your trust, your comfort, and eventually your complete devotion. He had to play his role perfectly: the attentive partner who cared for you just as much as you cared for him, despite his injuries. Of course, he also had to imitate your boyfriend's flaws.

Every now and then, he deliberately left dirty clothes scattered across the floor. In truth, Tom had never been that untidy, but he was impersonating a muggle-born wizard, after all.

Then one day, he decided it was finally time to move to the last stage of his plan: proposing marriage. It was a rather romantic proposal, of course. Even if it was nothing more than a lie, it had to feel genuine.

Under the guise of your boyfriend, Tom told you that the recent attack had opened his eyes and made him realize he wanted to cherish the one person who had made him feel truly alive and loved. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, or so he claimed. You said yes, of course.

The two of you celebrated with wine. When you had both drunk a little too much—and after Tom discreetly took more Polyjuice Potion to ensure the disguise would last—he guided you to the bedroom to carry out the final part of his plan. He doubted that foolish man had ever truly pleasured you, but Tom intended to make sure there would be no room for doubt this time.

After all, the success of his plan depended on your pleasure. From then on, the days blurred together, with Tom always finding a reason to draw you back into his arms until he was certain his objective had been achieved.

Several weeks later, Tom knew his plan had succeeded. He noticed the subtle signs—the way your breasts had grown fuller beneath his touch, the increased sensitivity to his caresses, and the gorgeous glow that seemed to linger about you. But he had to be patient.

He needed to wait until you told him yourself and, more importantly, until you were safely past the first trimester. In the meantime, he still had to return to Malfoy Manor to replenish his supply of Polyjuice Potion and, perhaps, taunt your boyfriend a little.

Telling the man about the "torture" he was putting you through only made him writhe even more in agony. It hardly mattered. Tom always made sure his trips were untraceable, especially since you were a heavy sleeper who rarely woke in the middle of the night.

That was, until one night. You woke with a sudden urge to vomit and hurried to the bathroom, only to notice that he wasn't beside you. The moment you awoke, the detection charm Tom had placed alerted him.

He immediately drank another dose of polyjuice potion and apparated back to the cottage. When you questioned where he had been, he simply claimed he had gone out to buy medicine after you'd complained of aches and soreness. You melted at his concern, though you couldn't help but scold him for venturing outside while it was still dangerous.

You even grew a little emotional in the process. Another sign of pregnancy, Tom thought with satisfaction. Once you had calmed down, you finally told him the news that you were pregnant. Tom feigned surprise before pulling you into his arms, his expression filled with joy as he promised he would be there for both you and the baby.

Tom had calculated the timing carefully. He needed to stay for a few more weeks, just to be certain, until you had reached your third month. Until then, he continued to care for you, helping with your morning sickness and making sure you avoided certain foods—all for the sake of his mission, of course.

You also became increasingly reliant on him. He insisted that you rest and refrain from overexerting yourself, which conveniently aligned with his plan. The less you strained yourself, the lower the risk to the fetus. Then, once the first trimester had finally passed and he could safely leave, he put on one last performance.

Under the guise of your boyfriend, he confessed that he didn't want to be a father after all. The war came first, he claimed, and he had more important people to worry about than just you. You were furious.

You shouted at him, threw whatever you could get your hands on, and refused to let him walk away so easily. Damn, you were fierce. You had never been one to back down.

Tom had to admit you were a remarkably powerful witch. Even your boyfriend, who had remained imprisoned in Malfoy Manor all this time, refused to break. At first, he had done nothing but beg Tom not to hurt you, but eventually his pleas turned into curses and defiance whenever Tom threatened to make you suffer.

The first thing Tom did upon returning to Malfoy Manor was visit the dungeons. Standing before your boyfriend with a wicked grin while still under the effects of Polyjuice Potion, he subjected the man to the Cruciatus Curse one final time. When the potion finally wore off, Tom ended it with a single Killing Curse.

Afterward, Tom kept a close watch over you and ordered his followers not to lay a single finger on you. Your family, however, was another matter. He made sure they remained out of your reach. They could always serve as useful hostages—or bait—if the need ever arose. If not, they could simply be disposed of.

Tom waited a week until you were vulnerable enough before finally approaching you in person, this time without any disguise, under the pretense of reconnecting with an old classmate. He hadn't exactly given you much of a choice in the matter.

He was as sweet and charming as ever, though he noticed the way you subtly hid your slowly growing belly from him and always kept your distance. Still, Tom remained persistent. Week after week, he continued visiting despite your reluctance, never once dropping the warm smile or gentle demeanor he carefully crafted.

Your suspicions remained, and your guard stayed firmly in place, but living on your own gradually became more difficult. More than once, Tom heard you curse your boyfriend for leaving you, completely unaware of the truth.

As much as you hated it, he was always there. Sometimes, he even found himself teasing you. It was the least he could do. He couldn't taunt you the way he truly wanted, but he enjoyed provoking you all the same. He liked seeing your reactions, liked knowing that your attention was finally directed at him, and that you could no longer so easily avoid his presence.

As the weeks passed and the two of you grew closer, Tom found himself becoming increasingly invested in you without quite realizing it. Naturally, he reasoned, it was only because you were carrying his heir. It was only logical that he ensure you remained healthy and comfortable.

That was certainly why he ordered one of his Death Eaters to seek out whatever foods you happened to be craving. It was for the child, nothing more.

The same logic explained why he found himself lingering a little longer after each visit, why he had begun committing your habits to memory despite no longer needing to, and why he quietly disposed of anyone foolish enough to speak ill of you within his hearing. They were merely inconveniences, potential threats to his plans.

Nothing more. Yet every time he repeated those excuses to himself, they became just a little less convincing. Tom had never cared whether someone had eaten or slept well, yet now he found himself asking those very questions before leaving, watching until you finished your meals, and making certain your little cottage remained untouched by the war surrounding it.

He dismissed the thoughts as quickly as they came. After all, you were carrying his heir. There could be no other explanation. You were still heartbroken over your boyfriend's departure, which only made it easier for Tom to become more involved in your life.

But strangely enough, it also irritated him. He was the one who had gotten you pregnant—not that you knew it. He was the one who had cared for you through the sickness, soothed your fears, and remained by your side. Tom should have been the one you cried for. But he knew, without a doubt, that if he were to disappear instead, you wouldn't shed a single tear for him.

The realization was infuriating. He wanted your attention fixed solely on him. Worse still, he found himself thinking about you constantly, even while away on missions. At first, Tom assumed it was simply pent-up frustration. He even sought distraction elsewhere, hoping to rid himself of the strange fixation. But every attempt ended the same way.

Nothing held his interest for long, and before he knew it, he was making his way back to your little cottage. One evening, when your pregnancy had progressed well into the third trimester and your belly had grown heavy with his child, you invited him to stay the night because it had grown too late for him to return home.

Tom accepted, of course. He waited until your breathing had evened out before quietly slipping into your room, standing beside your bed as he looked down at what his carefully orchestrated plan had become.

He no longer wanted to kill you. The thought seemed almost... wasteful. Perhaps it would be far crueler to keep you instead, to bind you to the very monster you had spent years trying to avoid.

You were already carrying his heir, after all, and it would only be a matter of time before he wanted more children. He certainly wanted more, and it most certainly wasn't because he had begun to enjoy the sight of you carrying his child, nor because he found the vulnerability it brought upon you strangely beautiful.

WARNINGS: yandere, obsessive behaviour, toxic behaviour, unhealthy behaviour, manipulation, mature language, possessiveness, etc.

SUMMARY: as a doctor, jack abbot dedicated his life to helping people. unfortunately for you, he stopped seeing you as just a patient a long time ago.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i will get to requests soon. i'm just going with the flow for now.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Before you go, have a glass of wine or better yet, recommend a good bottle. any kind of message is always a delight.

It had started innocently enough. You were just another patient on his schedule, another person he was supposed to help. Jack had always taken his work seriously. Medicine wasn't just a job to him, it was a responsibility he had devoted his life to. Yet somehow, he found himself remembering details about you long after your appointments had ended.

Your favorite color, the book you'd casually mentioned reading, the way you laughed at one of his dry jokes. Those were small, insignificant things that had no reason to linger in his mind. And yet they did. More often than not, he caught himself thinking about them at two in the afternoon, which considering his night shifts, might as well have been two in the morning.

Jack had spent months making excuses for his growing fixation. Every time he checked your chart more often than necessary, he reassured himself that it was purely professional concern. "I'm just making sure they're doing okay," he would mutter under his breath while pulling up your file for the third time that day.

Deep down, however, he knew most doctors didn't need to reread the same information repeatedly. The problem wasn't your health. The problem was that seeing your name had become one of the best highlights of his day.

He had even lied to his therapist about it. Whenever conversations drifted toward relationships, Jack purposely omitted the parts involving you. He hid behind half-truths and justifications as a doctor, presenting everything as harmless concern.

His therapist never saw the darker thoughts lurking beneath the surface because Jack himself refused to acknowledge them. As long as he kept calling it concern, he didn't have to confront the fact that it had long since become something far more dangerous.

Unlike more obvious obsessives, Jack's fixation had been terrifying precisely because of how subtle it was. He was never the type to be impulsive or reckless, even with the things he desire. He wasn't the type to make grand declarations or openly chase after someone without some sort of plan unless of course, it's what you're into.

He was patient and frighteningly good at hiding what he was doing. To everyone else, he remained the same calm and very reliable doctor they'd always known. No one would have suspected anything was wrong unless they paid very close attention.

A few people, however, knew him well enough to notice the cracks. Lena, in particular, had started watching him more carefully whenever your name came up. She had done her best to keep your file out of his reach whenever possible, occasionally assigning someone else to handle routine matters involving your care.

Somehow, though, Jack always found a way to access the information anyway. It wasn't even difficult for him. Every attempt to create distance only seemed to make him more determined to stay involved.

Jack absolutely hated it whenever you missed an appointment. Logically, he understood that life happened. People forgot things. Emergencies came up. Schedules changed. He was a reasonable man, and he had always prided himself on being patient.

He could wait. He should have been able to wait. Yet every time your scheduled slot passed without you showing up, irritation began crawling beneath his skin. The reasonable explanations never satisfied him for long.

"They probably just forgot," someone might have excused with a casual shrug when he asked where you were. Meanwhile, Jack's mind immediately jumped elsewhere. Who had distracted you? What had possibly been more important than your health? More importantly, what had been more important than seeing him?

The thoughts embarrassed him whenever he examined them too closely, but that didn't stop them from appearing. After all, he was your doctor. Your wellbeing was his responsibility. Surely that meant he deserved a certain level of priority in your life... right?

He had become surprisingly possessive of that title as well. You're his patient. So when another physician was assigned to your care, even temporarily, Jack found himself growing irritated far more quickly than he should have. He suspected Lena and some of the others were responsible, subtly trying to reduce his involvement with you.

The idea alone annoyed him. Nobody knew your medical history better than he did. Nobody understood your case like he did. At least, that was the excuse he used whenever someone questioned his insistence on remaining involved.

The truth was far less professional. The thought of someone else earning your trust made something unpleasant twist inside his chest. He hated imagining you smiling at another doctor the way you smiled at him. Hated picturing someone else listening to your stories, learning your habits, remembering your little preferences.

"I know their history best," he would insist whenever the subject came up, sounding perfectly reasonable while carefully concealing the possessiveness hidden beneath the statement. What he really meant was far simpler: he knew you best.

Over time, Jack started finding reasons to prolong your appointments. What should have been a quick ten-minute consultation somehow stretched into thirty. Sometimes even longer. He would ask about work, then ask follow-up questions.

He'd inquire about stress levels and somehow steer the conversation toward your hobbies, your friends, your weekend plans, and your daily routine. None of it was entirely inappropriate, but there was always a little more curiosity than necessary. A little more interest than any doctor should have shown.

Every new detail he learned about you felt valuable. He collected information the way other people collected keepsakes, carefully storing away every small fact you offered him. Your favorite coffee order. The route you took to work. The television shows you watched when you couldn't sleep. The songs you listened to during long drives.

None of it should have mattered as much as it did. Yet every new piece of information felt like another piece of a puzzle he couldn't stop trying to complete.

Before long, Jack found himself remembering things about you that even your friends probably forgot. He remembered passing comments you'd made months ago, tiny preferences you'd mentioned only once, stories you'd told in passing without realizing he'd committed every word to memory.

The realization should have concerned him. Instead, it filled him with a strange sense of satisfaction. After all, if the people closest to you couldn't be bothered to remember these things, then perhaps it was a good thing that someone did.

Someone had to appreciate every little detail that made you who you were. And Jack had long since convinced himself that nobody appreciated those details more than he did.

Whenever you mentioned a partner, an ex, or even someone who seemed remotely interested in you, Jack's expression never changed. He remained calm, attentive, and pleasant throughout the entire conversation, nodding at all the appropriate moments.

The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable or scare you into keeping parts of your life from him. Internally, however, it was an entirely different story. While you spoke, he was already cataloging every detail you provided, quietly analyzing whether this person deserved a place in your life at all.

"Your boyfriend forgot to pick you up?" Jack had asked one evening, his tone light as he helped you gather your things after an appointment. The sympathetic smile on his face never faltered, though something darker settled behind his eyes.

"That's unfortunate." He adjusted the strap of your bag onto your shoulder before guiding you toward the exit, listening patiently as you explained away your partner's absence. By the time you left, Jack had already convinced himself that someone who continually disappointed you clearly wasn't reliable enough to keep around.

Jack secretly enjoyed hearing about the shortcomings of the people around you. Every forgotten promise, every missed call, every careless mistake felt like confirmation of something he already believed.

To him, these incidents weren't isolated accidents; they were evidence that nobody appreciated you properly. While you often brushed these things off, Jack remembered every single one. The list of reasons why other people weren't good enough for you seemed to grow longer with every conversation.

Over time, he became completely convinced that nobody could care for you the way he could. In his mind, it wasn't arrogance or possessiveness; it was simply the truth. He paid attention to details others overlooked. He remembered things people forgot. He noticed when you were tired, stressed, or upset before you even mentioned it.

Every mistake someone else made only strengthened his belief that you were surrounded by people who failed to recognize how important you truly were.

If you ever became sick or injured, his obsession became significantly harder to disguise. The concern in his eyes was genuine because he truly hated seeing you suffer. The problem was that his relief whenever you depended on him was equally genuine. He had given you his personal number under the guise of caution, insisting that you contact him if you had any health-related concerns, no matter how small.

Whether it was a persistent cough, a headache, the flu, or something more serious, Jack always made himself available. The fact that your first instinct might be to reach out to him also filled him with a satisfaction he preferred not to examine too closely.

"You need to stay off your ankle for at least a few days." Jack didn't even glance up from the notes he was writing as he spoke. When you immediately protested that it was only a minor sprain, he simply sighed and set his pen down.

"And that's exactly how minor sprains become worse injuries." His gaze lifted to meet yours, calm but firm enough to end any argument before it properly began. By the time you opened your mouth to object again, he was already discussing recovery plans as though the decision had been made for you.

Jack hated seeing you cry. Not because tears made him uncomfortable, but because they triggered something deeply protective inside him. The moment he noticed your eyes watering or your voice trembling, every other thought seemed to disappear. His attention immediately shifted toward finding the source of your distress. Nothing else mattered until he knew who or what had upset you.

Unfortunately, the answers rarely satisfied him. If someone had hurt your feelings, Jack remembered their name. If someone had embarrassed, insulted, or disrespected you, he remembered that too. He never forgot the people responsible for your tears.

Outwardly, he remained perfectly composed whenever you spoke about them, offering advice and reassuring words. Internally, however, they earned a permanent place among the small group of people he disliked. Whether they realized it or not, anyone who hurt you had just given Jack a reason to pay very close attention to them.

The most dangerous part was that Jack genuinely believed everything he did came from a place of care. He never viewed himself as controlling or obsessive. As far as he was concerned, he was simply looking out for someone important to him.

Every boundary he crossed had a reasonable explanation. Every intrusive thought came wrapped in concern. Every possessive impulse disguised itself as protection. The line between caring for you and wanting to control every aspect of your life had blurred so gradually that Jack no longer noticed it existed at all.

As the months passed, Jack's presence in your life began extending far beyond the walls of his office. He never forced his way in; he simply made himself available often enough that his involvement started feeling natural.

If you had a bad day, he somehow found out. If you mentioned an upcoming problem, he'd check in afterward to see how it went. Little by little, he became someone you instinctively reached out to whenever something went wrong. By the time either of you realized how often it was happening, the habit had already formed.

What made the situation worse was that Jack was genuinely dependable. He knew which foods you avoided when you were stressed, which topics made you uncomfortable, and which excuses you used when you weren't feeling well.

Being cared for by him felt effortless because he anticipated your needs before you voiced them. Sometimes you found yourself relying on him without realizing just how much space he had silently occupied in your life.

Jealousy remained one of the few emotions Jack couldn't completely conceal, however. Most of the time, he maintained remarkable control over himself, but certain situations tested that restraint. Whenever someone flirted with you or seemed a little too interested, a subtle tension settled over him.

His expression rarely changed, but his jaw tightened, his responses became shorter, and his attention sharpened noticeably. The casual questions that followed always sounded innocent enough, yet they revealed just how closely he'd been monitoring the interaction in the first place.

"Who was that?" Jack had asked one afternoon after watching someone linger a little too long in conversation with you. His tone almost absent-minded, as though he were merely making small talk. Yet his eyes never left your face as he listened to your answer.

He nodded politely when you explained, offering a small smile before changing the subject entirely. The conversation appeared harmless on the surface, but the information had already been filed away alongside everything else he considered important about your life.

Unlike the possessive figures people imagined in stories, Jack had no interest in controlling you through fear. He never wanted you to feel trapped. He didn't need threats or confinement because he preferred something far more effective: making himself indispensable.

If you chose him willingly, there would never be a reason for you to leave. So he devoted himself to becoming the person you trusted most, the person you depended on most, and eventually, the person you couldn't imagine navigating life without.

"You know you can always call me." The words had become so familiar that you barely thought about them anymore. When you nodded and told him you knew, the smile that appeared on his face was warm and entirely sincere.

"Any time," he replied softly. There was no manipulation in his voice, no obvious pressure hidden beneath the reassurance. That was precisely what made it so dangerous. Jack meant every word, and his unwavering availability slowly encouraged you to lean on him more than anyone else.

In Jack's mind, none of his behavior qualified as obsession. Obsession was irrational, unhealthy, and selfish. What he felt for you was different—or at least that's what he told himself. He loved you. He cared about your wellbeing. He wanted you to be happy, healthy, and safe. Every decision he made could be justified through those goals.

The fact that his version of care often encouraged distance between you and others was something he conveniently chose not to think about too closely.

Over time, the boundaries he'd once maintained disappeared so gradually that he barely noticed them slipping away. You were no longer simply another patient whose wellbeing concerned him. You weren't even just a friend anymore.

Somewhere between the countless conversations, late-night check-ins, and years of accumulated attachment, you'd become something far more important. His days seemed to revolve around you without his permission, and thoughts of you occupied far more of his mind than they ever should have.

Eventually, Jack reached a point where imagining life without you felt genuinely impossible. Every future he envisioned included you somewhere within it. Every major decision was subconsciously weighed against how it might affect his ability to remain close to you.

What had started as simple interest had evolved into something woven into the fabric of his everyday existence. You had become the center around which everything else seemed to orbit.

And that was perhaps the most dangerous thing about Jack Abbott. Not the jealousy, the possessiveness, or even the fixation itself. It was the certainty that you belonged in his life. Once that belief settled into his mind, it rooted itself so deeply that removing it became nearly impossible.

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐎 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄

headcanons to dating yandere tom riddle: a chance to experience what dating tom riddle is like, even when it's against your will to do just that.

headcanons to yandere tom riddle x pregnant reader (sequel to 'headcanons to dating yandere tom riddle'): you found out that you're pregnant with Tom Riddle's child and you're desperate to escape your cage, but Tom was never one to let go of his possessions, especially his feisty little wife.

headcanons to tom riddle babytrapping you: in which tom riddle pretended to be your boyfriend through polyjuice potion to get the heir he always wanted, but ended up falling for you in the process.

The 100

Z Nation (watched the first and second season, not too impressed =P)

Gotham (never seen it)

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