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What a laughable thought, Tom Riddle? Obsessed with a social life simulator game? But here he was, curled over his switch, blue-screen glasses reflecting the screen, eyes wide as he carefully drew on the features of his character.

This was his 5th attempt, his 5th time restarting his save, 5th time restarting the game because the last four saves hadn’t worked out, they were all failures.

His eyes flickered to the horde of Polaroid pictures that sat beside his socked foot, before focusing back on the screen, painstakingly making sure the curve of her digital eyes were just right. Finally, after an hour, he drew back, nodding to himself.

She was perfect, just as she always was.

Then came the next character, one he also spent just as much time on, himself-in tomodachi mii form. He’d gone through this dance several times already, so detailing himself onto a mii should’ve taken no time at all, but he was vain.

With that, he selected their dating preferences, their hobbies, personality quirks, how they greeted other people, everything linked up with himself and her.

He wrote down their names last. Tom and (y/n).

This time, this save, things would work, she wouldn’t reject him again. She couldn’t, he was perfect for her, everything matched up, he just had to play it right.

The game began, and Tom went through the whole opening sequence, his mii-self was the first on the island, and (y/n)’s mii was the second; he sat up a little, swallowing hard, eyes blood-shot and wide as he stared at the screen.

This was it, the meet-cute, it had to work this time, it had to. He’d seen it in other peoples play throughs, a love at first sight; that’s what he wanted, had attempted to get over and over again.

…

Tom fell back against the couch, his mii-of course-fell in love at first sight at (y/n)’s mii, but so far, she simply found him an acquaintance. “Can’t you see we’re meant to be?” Tom hissed quietly, his voice raspy, blinking hard a few times to get rid of the heavy feeling.

Regardless, he spent the hours hunched over his switch, curating every interaction between himself and (y/n), trying again and again, just as he had the last four tries, to get (y/n) to like him back.

Finally, he confessed, and (y/n), stubborn as she was, insisted they were just friends, that she didn’t see him that way.

Tom, nearly in tears, tossed his switch across the couch-it hit a cushion and clattered to the ground as Tom screamed into a decorative pillow.

Sunlight scattered across the room, and a faint alarm echoed from the bedroom.

Why, why couldn’t she see? She was perfect, he was perfect, their interests aligned, they wanted the same thing, he adored her-why couldn’t she see he loved her?!

“Babe?”

Tom looked up, eyes wide and bloodshot, bags beneath his eyes, face pale and cheeks a little damp.

There she stood, (y/n)-the real one-her hair a mess from her pillow, squinting at him in the morning sun, looking radiant as ever in his shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts.

And very concerned.

Her eyes drew from him, to the pile of pictures of her by his feet, and then to his switch-her switch actually-that sat on the floor, screen down.

She let out a long groan, head dropping into her hand.

“Please tell me you didn’t stay up all night playing that dating game,” she groaned, and Tom flushed-nose to ears.

“It’s not a dating game!” He defended, voice cracking.

(y/n) gave her husband a very long stare. “Is it not the point to get the characters to date each other?”

“No, it’s a social game-like animal crossing,” Tom defended, getting up-only to fall, his legs were asleep, back onto the couch.

“mmhm,” (y/n) hummed, stepping forward and scooping up the switch from the floor, looking at the screen, seeing the reason for Tom’s defeat. “…Babe?”

Tom buried his face in his knees, his glasses sliding up to his forehead. “Shut up.”

“You’re so pathetic,” (y/n) laughed, hearty and full of teasing. “And so cute, you made us?” She clicked out of the game and saw the history of saves. “…You made us five times over?”

“You rejected me! Again! For the 5th time!” Tom complained, looking up to glare at her-his glasses slid and hit the tip of his nose. (y/n) was still laughing, admiring the detail he’d put into her. So that was the reason he’d been staring at her a lot and taken all those pictures from the album.

“Baby, it’s just a game, with no real emotions, just ai and pre-disposed actions,” (y/n) said logically, and while Tom most of the time was very logical, he was on two hours of sleep, way too much coffee, and three weeks of tomodochi life brain rot.

Tom pouted, POUTED, glaring at her. “You said we were just friends,” Tom grumbled. God he was stupid when running on a single brain cell. She loved him.

She laughed again, tossing the switch down and crawling onto him, kissing him senseless.

That shut him up for a good while.

-one week later-

“HA! I DID IT!” (y/n) nearly punched the lamp of her bedside table, sitting  up blearily, looking at Tom beside her on the bed, his eyes wide behind his blue-screen glasses.

“Congratulations,” (y/n) rasped, looking at the clock. 2:45 am. “How about some sleep in celebration?” Tom, grinning, saved the game and set it on its charger, lying down and curling his arms around her-his glasses cold against her nape, muttering deliriously about his 7th, finally successful, attempt in trying to get her mii self to fall in love with his mii self.

And all he had to do was switch who was first on the island.

“Great job babe, go to sleep,” (y/n) slurred with sleep, and Tom hummed, and he was out two seconds later.

(y/n) sighed, reaching back awkwardly to pull his glasses and set them aside.

Her beloved husband, running on a single brain cell, obsessive with a social simulation game, was finally done with it.

Hopefully.

...

“(y/n)?” His voice came quiet, raspy with sleep, his arms tightened around her waist.

She hummed.

“You’d love me in every universe, right?”

(y/n) turned in his arms, kissing him.

“In every universe,” she whispered, meaning every word. Tom sighed, tucking her under his chin.

“No, don’t talk to me. I am mad at you and would like to continue that for the time being," you retorted simply, your head held high, not sparing him any further attention and instead continuing your rushed pace towards your dorm.

Tom sighed with defeat but did not let off either, keeping up with your pace so easily, you now had another reason to be mad at him.

“Still because of that silly Tom— Tommydachi game?” Tom asked when you rounded the corner to the dormitories, having you roll your eyes at him.

Men.

“It’s To-mo-da-chi," you hissed, fumbling with your keys to open the door to your dorm and finally put several metres and a thick, soundproof wall between you and him. "The world doesn’t revolve around you, Tom.”

Finally, the oak door creaked open with loud protest, and you shoved yourself into the sanctuary of your dorm—though too slowly to properly close it behind you.

“What even happened?” he asked, now trailing behind you as you plopped down on your bed with a deep, exasperated sigh.

You had explained this to him so often that each time you repeated the memory, it just made you more angry.

“Mii me complimented your hairstyle, and Mii Tom responded that mine reminds him of his grandma’s.”

There it was. That stupid, awful grin spreading on his face, raising an eyebrow at you.

You dramatically dropped back onto the soft mattress of your bed, folding your arms over your chest. "Don't look at me like that, Tom—I am clearly hurt, and all you do is make fun of me."

Tom huffed a quiet laugh, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But darling, that’s not what I would say. And that counts more than some pixels on screen shaped like me.”

Your lips formed a pout, and you strictly avoided his gaze.

“You were mean.”

“Technically, it wasn’t me who—“

You wave a hand in his face, signalling him to shut up.

“Tom, just— just be quiet. Not right now."

Though Tom didn't let up so easily. He kept asking questions, kept pestering you to see the game you'd been obsessed with for weeks—while you were trying to calm your silly thoughts and the urge to throw the nearest pillow at him.

"You are worse than your Mii-self." you complained, sitting up and opening the nightstand drawer to reveal your Nintendo Switch, which you'd smuggled onto school grounds.

"Here," you say after switching it on, tossing it onto his lap. "See for yourself. Your digital self hates me."

Now, seeing Tom play Tomodachi Life was definitely not on your bingo card for that year, but you didn't complain. After five minutes, he was so absorbed in the game a slight crease had formed between his brows, and his usually textbook posture had vanished—his shoulders relaxed, back curved.

You scooted closer to him then, watching him play with those cute pixelated versions of yourselves—smiling when you saw his efforts to get Mii Tom to like you back. He constantly grabbed his little digital self and dragged him towards Mii you—though often Mii Tom was busy staring into the distance or distracting himself with more important things instead of talking to you.

Nearly two hours had passed when your eyes got droopy, a yawn escaping your lips. The sun had set a few minutes ago, and the last few orange rays did little to illuminate your room.

You loved watching Tom play your favourite game—especially because up until now, he refused to touch anything with a screen. But he was determined to guide Mii Tom towards making it up to Mii you, and that alone made your heart flutter in your chest.

Maybe you should forgive him after all.

When another yawn fought its way past your lips, you were about to tell him to leave it for tomorrow—but Tom turned towards you suddenly, his eyes gleaming with joy.

"I want to marry you—I mean, Mii me asked Mii you for marriage!"

Oh.

Your two Miis were enjoying a Ferris wheel ride when it happened—Mii Tom was starstruck and irrevocably in love with Mii you.

"Please say yes, please yes," you whispered, cheering when your pixelated version agreed to his proposal.

On the screen of your Switch, you watched your two small lookalikes exit the cabin, their little faces beaming and content as they strolled through the market, holding hands.

Finally, you thought. It only took fifteen hours of game play to get stubborn Mii Tom to fall in love with you. Sometimes those games were awfully realistic.

"Uhh— don't look. Look away, sweetheart." Tom urged, hiding the screen from you.

But it was too late. You had already seen it.

Mii Tom had a love-at-first-sight moment with the Mii version of your best friend, essentially abandoning you for them and forgetting about your engagement altogether.

"TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE!"

꣑ৎ author's note: this masterpiece came to my mind thanks to @yuunarii-arii who was so kind to create Mii Mar and Mii Tom for her island—and guess what he told Mii Mar. yup. here you got proof:

a good day to kick this pathetic orphan boy into the nearest puddle.

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