Tom Riddle One Shots

How Was Your Day?

Tom sits on the floor, the candle on the white striped rug burning so bright in the growing darkness it has a blurry outline. His jaw is clenched as his dark eyes scan the page he writes on, his inked up quill hovering over the page.

My legs rest on his lap, his free hand gently grazing my shin up and down. Occasionally, when he writes something, his hand will stop and grip my shin. The different sensations make it impossible for me to focus on the essay he's writing for me. 

He always does my work. He says it's for extra practice but we both know a part of him does it to make me happy. It works so I'm not about to call him out on it. He said I had to sit with him when he did so I would learn stuff but he makes it so hard.

I mean, look at the boy. He has the deepest brown eyes and his lashes are so long and pretty. He always bunches his eyebrows when I say that but that just makes me smile harder, his eyebrows are somehow perfectly shaped and full. His dark curls are cut relatively short but, if you look close enough, you can see them bounce when he moves his head. When I told him that he harshly denied it but I could see his cheeks tint slightly. 

Everyone says he's the cold, golden boy and those who really know  him say he's even more terrible but, truly, he could be worse. I mean yes, his mission in life isn't something I am 100% behind but I see the intent. He's just working through some stuff.

I mean, come on, someone who really wanted to kill half of humanity wouldn't blush so furiously when you compliment them.  And they definitely wouldn't doing your homework and rubbing your leg.

I stare at him, his eyes not flicker to me once. I sigh dramatically and, while his eyes finally look at me, they don't linger, focusing back on the page. I purse my lips, making an even more dramatic sigh. He puts his quill down and raises his eyes before his head, an irritated look on his face.

I can't help but smile, tilting my head at him. "How's it going?"

He shakes his head, his curls bouncing a little. "If you would stop interrupting me, very well."

My smile drops and I make another dramatic sigh, taking my legs out of his lap. "Fine, I'll tell someone else about my day then." I stand. "Since my own boyfriend is too stubborn to ask and all."

I stare at him my arms crossed and eyes squinted. He just shrugs innocently, looking up at me through his long lashes. I begin tapping my foot but he still stays silent, a smile breaking through the corner of his lips.

I turn, taking a step towards the door "You know I'll just tell Blaise- considering he asked me to hang out and all."

I can almost hear the smile being wiped off his face. He grabs my arm, spinning me back to face him. His face is dark, demanding me to sit back down. I joyfully do so, sitting down with a shrug and a smile.

"How was your day, darling?" He bites out, his hand still gripping my arm.

"Wonderful, Tommy!" I say and he glares at me, his cheeks slightly pink. I knew he loved that nickname. "Lavender was being absolutely atrocious with her magic in DADA- I mean I struggle and all but she was unreal. I don't even think we learned half the spells she was throwing. Oh and, Blaise, he asked me out during a free period. In front of everyone. Talk about shameless. I'm sure he knew he had no shot though because what was he thinking? Maybe he has a death wish? Or maybe he thought I wouldn't tell you? Regardless, I shut him down. I even offered to set him up with Pansy but he just looked disgusted. That one was personal though because Pansy is the sweetest person alive," I sigh, catching my breath, "anyways, Tommy, how was your day?"

Throughout my nonsense rambling his hand releases my arm and falls to my hand, interlocking our fingers. I feel myself blush but am able to keep my words steady. He smiles when I ask him the question his head tilting up in thought.

"Well, uh, classes were good. I found an idea for a second horcrux-"

I interrupt him with a groan, pulling my hand out of his. "A second one? Is one not enough? Honestly, Tom. What are you going to do when I die? Have you thought about that? You'll live forever and your poor wife will be in her grave. 'Here lies Y/N Riddle, unfortunately her husband won't join her because he liked to kill people in his free time.'" 

He raises an eyebrow, "Y/N Riddle? My wife?"

I scoff, hiding my embarrassment by turning around. "It was just an example, get over yourself."

"Turn around, darling," he says softly, pulling at my shoulder. I shrug away from his touch. "Darling, turn."

I turn at the demand, looking at him with a soar expression on my face. He just smiles, cupping my cheek.

"It has a nice ring to it," his thumb runs over my skin, "but no way in hell am I giving up my horcruxes."

I slap his hand away, "whatever, Tom. You'll be sorry when I die."

He picks up his quill, his eyes lowering to the page, "Just make one yourself."

I struggle with words. Am I seriously considering this? No absolutely not. "Keep dreaming, I'm not a murderer."

"You're dating one, sweetheart."

"Oh shut up or I will break up with you."

He laughs as he writes on the page. We both know I won't. Neither will he. No matter how much we get on each other's nerves. it's just who we are.

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Requested fluff w a sorta soft Tom:)