Tom carried your books despite not needing to. He waited outside classes just to walk you two corridors over. He kissed your knuckles absentmindedly while reading. Your friends called it “walking him on a leash”. Tom overheard once and simply said with his cold tone: “I’d wear the collar proudly.”
After catching Draco cheating on you, you don’t think it too much. You just grab the first boy passing by and kiss him senseless, not realizing is Tom Riddle, Draco’s biggest rival.
There were three things in this world you simply did not play about. Yourself. Your money. And your man. Unfortunately for everyone involved, you happened to be Mattheo Riddle's other half. Which meant that if anyone thought they could get between you two, they were about to discover that the universe had a rather twisted sense of humour.
"What were you thinking?" "It was an accident." "You posted a picture of me sitting on your lap." "I know." "On your public story." "I know." "With your face in it." "Technically, my face wasn't—" You shoved him. "You are an idiot." "You look nice." "Mattheo." He was trying not to laugh and you were trying really hard not to kill him right there.
“Damn. I knew you were feisty. You got that look, you know? And the body too. I’d pay to get my hands on your—“ He didn't get to finish. Mattheo was already there. One second he was across the crowd; the next, he had Leaninster slammed against the wall, his forearm pressed hard against the boy's throat. The laughter around you died. Draco stopped mid-sentence. Blaise's grin vanished. Mattheo's face had changed completely. No smug smile. No teasing. No trace of the boy who'd been looking at you like you hung the moon only moments ago. Just fury. His eyes were fixed on Leaninster, red-hot and frighteningly steady. “If I were you I’d choose my words very carefully before talking about my girlfriend again.”
There’s another truth, quieter and far more persistent: Mattheo and you never really let each other go. That’s why you don’t have any problem to just tell the girl in Mattheo’s lap to get up because you want to sit.
Mattheo insists he’s not whipped. He’s nonchalant, unbothered, and definitely not obsessed with his girlfriend. So naturally, one tiny “ok” from you is enough to send him into a full-blown crisis—pacing, overthinking, interrogating his friends, and desperately trying to figure out what he did wrong. Because apparently, the world’s most nonchalant man can survive anything except his girlfriend using the wrong version of “okay.”
Everyone thinks Mattheo Riddle can’t romantically commit to anyone even if he tried. The truth is worse—he can commit but only to one girl: his childhood best friend whom he hasn’t seen in two years and it’s about to enter the common room.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, you wondered whether all those stories about your kind being dangerous weren't exaggerated after all. Because your restraint was beginning to crack. And Mattheo Riddle was standing directly in front of you, bleeding just enough to make you want him in a way you had never wanted anyone before. Something deep. Hungrier. Instinctive.
‘I think I’m going to do it,’ Jean says. ‘Do what?’ Connie asks while eating some peanuts. You stare at Jean in silence. ‘I’m going to ask Mikasa to give us a chance.’ Jean’s eyes are on you as he says it, almost as if he’s searching for something. Anything you’ll give away. The silence is deafening.
Your life together exists somewhere between two worlds. Your textbooks scattered across his truck. His flannels draped over your apartment chair on campus. Weekdays apart. Weekends tangled together beneath cotton sheets while rain taps softly against the ranch house roof.
Mattheo decided that it was such a good idea to prank Tom by enchanting all of his clothes to be sparkling neon pink glittery, leaving his brother with nothing to wear. Everyone is dying to know how Tom will respond, and even more important, what he’s gonna wear. So when the portrait swings open, conversation stopped instantly. Every head turned. Silence spread across the room. And there—standing with the exhausted expression of a man who had accepted every terrible decision life could possibly offer—was Tom. Faded blue jeans. Perfectly composed posture. Completely unreadable face. And across his chest, in enormous bright red letters... I ♥ MY GIRLFRIEND. For one endless second the room simply stared. No one breathed. No one spoke. Your own heart stopped beating entirely. Then chaos exploded.
You didn’t realize how quickly the chats changed and before you knew it, your picture was sent to no other than Draco Malfoy, your boyfriend sworn enemy. Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Your heart hammered. Finally, his reply came through. ‘Well. I suppose I'll need a very different kind of distraction before I can finish that essay.’
“Are you going to pretend you don’t notice?” Mattheo finally said, voice lazy but eyes sharp. You didn’t look up from your book. “Notice what?” “The way he looks at you.” A pause. “The way I do.” Theo’s hand stilled, just for a second. You closed your book then, slow, deliberate. “And the way you look at each other?”
“Do you realize you're brothers?” They looked at each other. Then at you. Fred raised an eyebrow as though the question was absurd. “Duh?” “And you want the same girl?” Then the twins exchanged one of those identical Weasley looks—the kind that usually meant trouble was coming. Their smiles widened. “Sharing is caring, darling.”
Six days without seeing each other is unbearable for Peter Parker—so naturally, Spider-Man shows up at your window at midnight, exhausted, clingy, and desperately in need of his girlfriend.
Apparently it was very easy to test your boyfriend’s loyalty when it was someone else’s boyfriend. But it was considerably less funny when the typing bubble appeared on your own screen.
