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main @sincerelycrescent i don't like smut

[littlestarletscarlet]

“i’m staring at her, like i wanna get hurt”

pairing ; regulus black x reader

a/n ; i wanted to make this a hot little scenario inspired by obsessed by olivia rodrigo then i got carried away and started inevitably writing angst. reader’s last name is marlowe. btw comments give me life ; hope you guys enjoy <3 !!

3.7k words

You’d gotten over her already, of course. It’s been two months since the blown-up, messy breakup, and rumours were already floating around that Pansy had gotten herself a new boyfriend from that snake house of hers. All the better, you reassured yourself. No more sneaking into the dungeons every other night just to see her, when your towers were much better anyway.

In fact, you were so over her that it didn’t even affect you to see her black, perky bob in the narrow corridors when you switched classrooms to get to your respective lessons. No, you were nothing but sanguine when her figure came into your sight, arm latched tightly on the tall, raven-haired boy next to her, low box heels clicking in that beat that you were once so familiar with.

And you definitely didn’t seethe as you caught the view of them sitting side-by-side at the Slytherin table. Pansy spooning food onto her boyfriend’s dish - What was he, a child? You scorned - as he held himself with an effortlessly relaxed poise, gaze darting with the signature unreadable, intelligent grey gaze, lips quirked in a vaguely bored but amused curl. Regulus Black. The infamous, unreachable player that Pansy was practically attached at the hip with now, and your former friend who has been one of your closest, until you had ended the friendship in an argument two years ago. Of course it had to be him.

Every night, your friends tug at your elbow. There she goes again, they sigh. When was this going to end? Realistically, it wasn’t her that you were caught up on about— it was more of the sentient that she had left you instead of the other way around. The pretty ornament he was now that she had snagged herself incensed you more than the actual breakup did— and for a Raven, you were surprisingly competitive. 

Bitterness from how Regulus seemed to overshadow you wasn’t an easy thing to accept, and you were content with staring at them and stewing up insults until it made you feel better. Seriously, how were they a better couple than you were with Pansy? They practically looked like siblings, both black-haired Europeans, you fumed.

God knows how long this one-sided petty rivalry would’ve lasted— Had Regulus not turned his gaze on you last Tuesday night. Raising his eyebrows, that bastard had the nerve to smirk at you, all while Pansy attempted to bat her eyelashes at him and get his attention with no avail. Clink went your cutlery as you dropped it on your porcelain plate, causing it to tip over and spill a couple grains of risotto rice on your impeccably ironed, slate-grey skirt. You cursed, snapping out of the much-too-prolonged period of eye contact as you hastily waved your wand, removing the damp stains before they were absorbed into the fabric.

Lifting your eyes again, he was no longer looking at the Ravenclaw table at all. Must’ve been your imagination. 

Disgruntled, you scowl as you tear your already-cold dinner roll into small, squished pieces, making it the undeserving subject of your irritation.

Noticing your unconscious motions, a smile grows on Pandora’s face and she jabs an elbow into your stomach.  “I mean, you do have a type,”  She says, grinning at you suggestively. You can’t help it when your cheeks flush red and her smile widens. “Look at the oh-so-stiff and stony Y/N. Blushing! Over Pansy’s new boyfriend, of all people!”

“Asshole. He’s the same as ever, insolent and starting what he can’t finish,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. But you’d be lucky if this were the end of what he had so tauntingly started.

-

You barely remembered that subtle, coy look that he had thrown at you as exam season approached. Of course, that was until Evan casually brought him up as you two waited in line to file into your next class. You two had become fast friends during your relationship with Pansy, and fortunately, the breakup hadn’t affected the easy bond that you shared. 

Shifting the books you held to your chest, you grimaced at the weight of the combined volumes. “Pansy still on your head about talking to me? You know, I barely see you anymore. Now that I’m implicitly banned from your dungeons.”

He snorts, casting a glance at the arched stone ceiling. “She doesn’t own the common room, you know. You’re vastly overestimating her ability to hold a grudge.”

At that, you fake a gasp. “Oh, forgive me for not waltzing into another house’s common room that I only ever entered anyway to see my now ex-girlfriend!”

Evan rolls his eyes and elbows you, causing you to lose your hold on a book with a yelp. “Funny. You’re hilarious.”

You straighten, regaining your balance and assuming a purposefully deadpan expression. “I know. Your influence, obviously.”

He ignores you, continuing on. “What’s the deal with your whole… situation now anyway? I swear, it gets more complicated, like, daily. Worse than Barty and I, which, you know, I assumed to be quite impossible.”

Confused, you level him a glare. “What? You’re making fun of me. Nothing’s going on. I’m still miserably single.”

“No, I mean— not Pansy. Regulus. What’s the deal with you and him? Some kind of weird , competitive history? At this point, he cares more about you than her. Always going on about— when Pansy’s not here, obviously—“ 

He continues as you gape at him— 

“—you this and that. Y/N wrote this article when she was sixteen, Y/N went to this gala last Christmas wearing this dress by some up-and-rising designer. Oh, here’s a good one, I can’t believe you never told me. Y/N was an extra in a film, some appearance at a ball or whatnot.”

At your baffled look, his grin finally slides.

“..Oh. I thought you knew.”

The bell rings, and your class files into the room after the teacher enters. You give him a stern stare as you set your books down on the left side of the desk, Evan sliding into his seat beside you sheepishly. “You’re telling me everything, Rosier,” you hiss. “All of that. Don’t even think of keeping anything from me. Or I’ll tell Barty you—“

“Merlin, fine!” Cutting you off as soon as he heard Barty’s name, he starts his rapid yet hushed recounting as you flip open your textbooks halfheartedly, scarcely able to tune into the teacher’s monotone droning. 

“It started, like, two months ago. Before the exams. I’m pretty sure it was Friday because he never has fun on weekdays, or he’s off liasoning with Pansy at God knows where. Anyway, we were all pretty high in the boy’s dorm off Barty’s stuff, so it’s a bit foggy and I don’t really remember…”

You glare at him as he trails off, trying to avoid the topic. Don’t you dare keep this from me, silently spread all over your face.

“Stop that look,” he responds defensively, one hand anxiously spinning a quill. "It's true. Okay, so it was just the three of us and getting high makes me fucking horny. Don’t look at me like that, Y/N. I was all over Barty—“ he falters, cheeks flushing scarlet— “and Reg was third-wheeling. He was being so annoying about it, glaring at us and all that, so fuck him because it isn’t a crime to kiss my ridiculously hot boyfriend. So I told him to go find Pansy and make out with his own girlfriend and quit bothering us.”

“And then he scoffed at me, said that she was constantly all over him and he didn’t really want her, or something like that. Oh, I distinctly remember thinking that was kind of unfair to Pansy. Then he said that he had no idea how Pansy ever landed you, and why you ever stuck with her. Yeah, we were so high. Then he went quiet and we pretended that never happened the next morning.”

Evan goes silent for a second and the teacher’s voice fills the gap left by the absence of his voice. “Except, obviously, Barty and I didn’t really forget and neither did Reg. I think we all know except Pansy. I thought he was jealous at first, because he asked me one day if you had slept on the right side of Pansy’s bed and if you had a pet cat or something, because there was fur all over the blankets. I told him how would I know? I’m pretty sure you don’t have a cat, right?”

You grimace. You were the cat, in fact, a savannah cat too large and noticeable for your liking. As a result, you weren’t able to transform often and not many people knew of your ability to.

”Also, he keeps asking Pansy about you. I think she finds it irritating as hell, and she knows you two used to be, like, best friends, right? Even though you were obviously too young to be more, and everybody knows you argued with him and hate each other now. But still, it’s clear you’re on his mind more than you should—“

”—and more than Pansy would like. So I thought you had something going on.”

 Stealing a glance at your carefully controlled expression, Evan winces. “Don’t be mad at me. I’m just telling you what I know.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, Evan. It’s not you I’m pissed at.” 

Breathing out shallowly, you cast your venomous gaze at the ceiling. “Regulus fucking Black. Can’t keep his too-good nose out of anyone’s business.”

Always more trouble than he was worth. You’d get him back later, you swore.

-

Being the overthinker that you are, you took a grand total of two weeks to draw up the plans on your scheme, aiming to gauge the exact temperament Evan claimed Regulus was currently in. Essentially, it consisted of you becoming a slinking cat and sneaking into his dorm room to claw around. Knowing that his habit of keeping the most meticulous notes on everything had never died out, you hoped to search for hints that he did, indeed, have an eye on yourself.

Unfortunately, the plan was as sparse as a harvest after a drought. For one, the probability of Regulus forgetting that you could take the form of this large, conspicuous forest cat was very, very low, taking into account how often you’d take this form to sneak into his rooms for purposes other than the current when you were… familiar. Not to mention, you did not have access to his schedule and you could not count on when he would be in or out of his room. Still, unable to get him out of your mind, you conspired to carry out this plan with no luck but a sheer force of will.

The night you chose was one after the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. The game was relatively predictable, Slytherin winning with Regulus catching the Golden Snitch within the first half an hour; you tried not to feel anything about that victory, and pointedly turned away with a disgusted eye roll as Pansy instantly threw herself onto Regulus after he landed on the pitch. It was as sure as the sun rising in the East, and setting in the West, that the first and wildest party of the season would be thrown in the dungeons that night.

Regulus would be in the centre of attention, you reasoned, sloppy hands all over him and his victory; he would be drunk, high, or both, most certainly occupied and unlikely to return to his room for sleep of all activities. Thus, it was the perfect time for you to sneak in when the party was in full force.

It was easy to get into the common room. All kinds of people were going in and out; alcohol was brought in by the crateful, its effects clear in those leaving the doorway, with beer splashed over their unbuttoned school shirts and faces flushed rosy. Barely anybody paid attention to some animal slinking into the party, assuming you to be an exotic pet someone had let loose in their intoxication. 

When some drunken boy foolishly tries to lift you up, you hiss at him and twist wildly, leaving an angry red scratch on his forearm. Yowling (rather like kin, registered your feline mind) he dropped you abruptly and set to stemming the bleeding. You pay him no heed and continue your determined pad to the downwards staircase to the boys’ dormitory. Collateral damage, it’d be worth it.

Getting in was easier than you had anticipated; the door was unlocked, and people were milling around the doorframe, red-cheeked boys tugging giggling girls into their rooms. Mewing softly and slinking around their ankles, you pad forward until you reach the dorms of the 6th year boys, by where it had gotten quite quiet, far from the revelry of the celebration. You paw an abandoned cigarette butt on the ground, stepping forward quietly to sniff the scents on the floor to determine which door belonged to whom.

The faintest hint of smoke, coupled with a note of the floral gardenia and a base of cedarwood. And your sharp feline nose could never miss that touch of sea salt; how much it cost to cultivate a scent this intricate, you had always wondered. That was, with no doubt, Regulus’ room. You follow the trail to a door, delighted that your plan had gone so smoothly so far, stopping to preen in satisfaction with yourself.

But your ears prick as you bend down to lick at your fur. The quiet was broken with the harsh sound of ripping paper, followed by a low curse and a crash of metal on the ground— all coming from the room you intended to enter, Regulus’ room. Your spotted fur standing on the end, the curiosity that came with being a cat compelled you to poke your head into the door and push the door wider with a paw.

There goes your plan. It was true, you mused in retrospect, when they say curiosity would kill the cat.

It barely took a moment as your eyes adapted to the dark room. It was barely-lit, with two scarce candles burning away at their ivory wax, one at the desk and one on the shelf at the foot of his desk. The Snitch, an embellished little golden orb with its wings still fluttering slightly, was discarded carelessly at a corner on the floor; and his jersey, miraculously pristine even after the match, was flung over the school-issued wooden chair. And there Regulus was, sitting on his bed, the shirt of his uniform with its top buttons undone and tie loose, making a stark difference from his usual, impeccably polished appearance on campus. There he was, eyes closed with a cigarette balanced between his fingers, decidedly not at the party whose central figure was supposed to be him.

That was clearly not the confident, taunting boy you were supposed to despite. In your feline mind, all you could recognise was his resemblance to that too-young boy you knew two years ago. Impulsively, you let out a soft meow and pad closer to where he was sitting.

His eyes snap open, the rest of his body deathly still. The surprise, and recognition, in his eyes were clear for a moment, and his jaw clenches as he exhales a stream of smoke. You fix your brown-eyed gaze on him, tilting your head. After a minute or two, he lets out a forced chuckle, diverting his sight to fix on the flickering flame of the candle on his desk instead.

”Hey, Marlowe. Long time no see. Guess you know what I’m up to, then, hmm?” He tosses a satin cushion from his bed to the floor, waving a vague hand at it. “If you’re going to invade my room, at least do it comfortably, yeah?”

You make a haughty sound and turn your backside to him, purposefully knocking away the pillow with your tail. Consequences be damned, you were going to confront him directly now.

Well, confront him as well as you could as a cat. And you were not going to take any bribes, no matter how comfortable or tasty, if you could not get an explanation for what he’d been doing the past few months.

He sighed. “Come on,” he hedged, voice worn down and tired. “It’s the one I brought over from the family estate. The one you liked. Not the scruffy school ones. And I think I have canned tuna somewhere around here. Just don’t make me talk.”

You mew and glance at him before quickly turning away again, curling down in a ball on the cold floor to avoid looking at him. Then even came some momentary doubt if you had found the correct boy after all. You were quite certain the boy you hated was arrogant, disrespectful and not at all.. weary, and drained. And in all the years you were in school, you had only ever known one thing to pierce past your infamous resolve: Regulus Black, back all the years ago.  

And, well, maybe you would take some bribes. It really wouldn’t be easy to force him to talk after all.

Regulus plainly casts a gaze at you and swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing up to rummage through a cabin. Silently, he produces a can of tuna and pries open the metal lid. He balances it on a hand as he pushes over the stacks of research papers and books on his desk to clear a space for you, setting it down carefully. In a moment, you yield, uncurling from your position and jumping onto his desk to lap at the fish.

He watches you quietly, occasionally taking a slow drag of the cigarette. And, unconsciously, his free hand is stroking your tail gently, the satiny fur velvety beneath his fingers; and you’re purring softly, unable to withstand the sheer familiarity of the motion. It almost felt like a routine, one that had been abandoned for far too long. You don’t think, don’t move: If you did, you feared that this moment would be taken by history, robbed from the present like so many memories had been from before.

He breaks the silence cautiously. “..I still notice what you’re doing, you know. I read those journals you publish. Making formidable progress now, huh. I see your names on those reports; Y/N Marlowe. It’s very recognisable.” 

He lifts his hand stiffly from your fur and rummages through a stack of papers inside a file on his desk. “I liked that analysis on the psychological control that uniforms brought for various sides during the war. I kept it, see. I reference it sometimes.”

You mew softly, feline eyes blinking at him. Tilt your head, as if to say, I thought you detested me. You’re with my ex, for heaven’s sake.

Regulus leans back on his bed, finally letting his shoulders fall back to release the tension. “I know what you’re trying to say. Firstly, I don’t. And even if I did, it’s still remarkable work that I wouldn’t ignore for the sake of our…” He winces- “…grudge.”

He continues to talk as you lower your head to lap at the can again. “It’s been a long time. I never meant to cut things off completely, Marlowe, I thought you’d come back. But I should’ve known that your pride was as formidable as… well, mine.”

A forced laugh. “As big as a scandal it could get in school back then, I remember. The whole school was buzzing about us. I hated it, the way they gossiped. I hated that I thought I didn’t know you enough to disbelief in the gossip. And now I don’t know you at all.”

He lifts a hand again to stroke your fur, eyes half-lidded, this time of his own accord. You stay perfectly still and he exhales forcibly and continues talking quietly.

”And Pansy. God, you have to know that I didn’t pursue her. She came after me, and I was lonely, so lonely. Everyone knows me for the farce I put on. So I thought I’d give it a chance, but she doesn’t know me. She only adores who she thinks I am. And she can’t let go of me, but I want to leave.”

Regulus lifts his grey gaze up to yours again. “That’s why I’m hiding, yeah? I’m just tired. I don’t wanna deal with those drunk assholes who just want to get all over me.”

He scoffs as you headbutt his hand away. “Don’t believe me if it doesn’t suit you. You’ve always been too stubborn for your own good, Marlowe. But I have no reason to jest about this, do I?”

You ignore his question, holding your head up regally and pushing the empty can to the side with a paw. The dump of information he’d just let loose on you is sheerly registered, what the fuck running through your head. He groans and swings his legs over the side of his bed to get up, picking up the can and tossing it into the bin. “Oh, Marlowe, I don’t even know if you understand what I just said. I’m talking to a cat for God’s sake.”

But even as a cat, you understood very clearly that you weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to spy on him for more material to hate, not soften at how vulnerable he looked at current, climbing back into bed without bothering to change and casting you a questioning look.

So, head still turned away, your paws still pad to the foot of his bed and you curled up into a furry ball, letting out a meow that somehow managed to come off as begrudging.

Regulus leaned forward. “If you’re going to stay, come closer, Marlowe. C’mon, star.”

And oh, you just hated the way the old nickname just rolled effortlessly off his tongue. You hated the way that you couldn’t resist, slinking in closer to splay yourself on top of his stomach to soak up the warmth during wintertime.

He finally let off a rare smile, letting a hand rest on top of your fur and closing his eyes. “Only for this night. Just like the old times. Don’t go, alright? Not until sunrise.”

You make no response and burrow into the blanket, dozing into a light slumber. Just like the old times, you would give yourself one night like this. And just like the old times, you were gone by morning.

[m1dnightdancer]

regulus doesn't EVER send voice messages unless he's SHIT PISSED

[babyswan9]

reader who ragebaits regulus to get voice messages because his voice is hot

[littlestarletscarlet]

- THE DEVIL IN YOUR EYES // regulus black x reader.

⟢ pairing ; regulus black x reader.

⟢ inspired by back to friends by sombr !

⟢ author’s notes ; finally posting this after having it rot in my drafts for some time. first time posting , hope it does not fall flat :’) i have no idea how to tag this.

Knock, knock. 

You could barely hear the quick rap of his knuckles over the blaring of your vinyl player. Blearily, you get up from your bed, kicking aside the messily-strewn covers that you’d carelessly pulled over yourself. Why you were tired from doing nothing today, you could barely tell. Usually, for you, it was no harder to finish dinner than to run over the syllabus of a test, memorised perfectly back-to-back.

“Who’s there?” you call halfheartedly, lifting a hand to smooth over your mussed-up hair in an attempt to look more presentable. In truth, you already knew. Who else could it be?

Turning the knob, you catch a glimpse of black curls, black robe, skin as white as snow. A vampire, a ghost, supernatural of some kind, you think wryly to yourself. Maybe it’d be better to face a creature of the shadows, at this point. Better to duel a monster, than to confront this siren. Regulus Black, most wanted, most elusive boy in the castle, and someone you could dare to hope was in your grasp— at least, sometimes. 

Definitely not this week, though. It was already Friday evening, and he’d been ignoring you all week, save for the conspicuous glances you caught when he passed you by the hallway. He hadn’t even acknowledged you, left you an unsigned note or two at the door with a glistening apple when he knew you’d been skipping meals, lost in your piles of textbooks, like he usually would. And the cherry on the top, the last straw— you remember your violent flinch, and poor attempt to hide it, when Luna whispered at the breakfast table to you that he’d been caught with a tall, nameless brunette, just at the party Wednesday night.

You begin to close the door, gaze dropping. “Go away.”

He lodged his foot between the doorframe and the heavy wooden door to prevent it from closing, lifting his gaze, framed with those godforsaken lashes, to deliver a pleading glance at you. “Love—“

You scoff bitterly. “Don’t see you calling me that when I want you to. Out.”

“Amour,” he tries, and you falter. You’d always had a soft spot when he spoke like that. But this time was different, wasn’t it? You’d stand your ground, cut off this boy who had the bait to your heart dangling, once and for all. Something in your expression must have shifted, because he sighed the next second. “Come on. I just want to talk. Just listen, Y/N.”

”You know I don’t mean it.” You take a step backwards, face falling. Deja vu. This isn’t the first time, and you weren’t about to let him win again. Or were you.

He nudged the door to open, leaving a slightly larger gap. Now you can see his face, and you can’t help but remember. Your fingers, brushing through his curls, tracing the line of his jaw till you reached his collarbone. A month or two ago, when you’d both been awake with insomnia and he told you you were the only one who understood. He had crossed the first line then, broken the first rule between the two of you to never say anything sentimental. It wasn’t fair, was it? Him, being the one who reached out and started things; him, pulling away in an equally cruel manner.

He’s wearing his dark green silk pajamas, all covered underneath a black cloak he’d carelessly thrown on top of his sleepwear. Except the brown paper bag in his hand, he looked ready to go to bed. Which made sense, considering it was already over eleven o’clock at night. “You aren’t supposed to be here. It’s not your house, it’s the girl’s dorms and it’s over curfew. You’ll get caught.” Even in an attempt to sound him away through logic, your voice is whispery and reluctant. At heart, you know you don’t want him to leave.

He shrugs, feigning casual. “I’m a prefect.”

Not the first time he’d said that. “It’s still forbidden. You won’t get punished but I will.”

”Yeah,” he agrees, all but unimpressed. “Which is why you should let me in. Or I’ll get caught and we’ll both have points taken off our houses. And God forbid people start saying we’re a couple.”

That stings. You glare at him, and he catches what he’d said wrong, face falling. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. Come on, love. I’ve something for you. Got it last weekend, I hadn’t seen you all week.”

He holds up the bag, a bribe, and you eye it hesitantly. Pathetic, you think, is what you’d be if all it took was a single gesture of affection, evidence that he cared even a bit for you for you to let your walls down. Even though you already knew you’d lost halfway and your foot was no longer lodging the door shut, you still attempted to put a bit of a bite into your retort. “And whose fault is that?”

“Mine, love.” Regulus steps in, finally, kicking his slippers off at the door. His face is listless, like yours, tired of playing this game over and over again.  “I’m sorry.” He places the bag on your bed as you fall back to collapse into it, staring at the ceiling. “Accept my apology?”

You turn to glare at him, vicious still, as he sets himself down beside you to sit on your bed. “God, Reg. I’m not something you buy.”

He grimaces. “Yeah. That’s a little strange now that I think about it. But this you’ll like. Please.”

Grudgingly, you push yourself up, grabbing the pillow to place on your lap. Out of spite, you stubbornly keep yourself from having any physical contact with Regulus. You’re touch-starved, sure, and at that moment you would’ve given anything for a touch of those pale, silver-ringed hands that were currently fidgeting in the corner of your eye. But if you’re touch-starved, so must he be, right? If you had suffered by his hand, you were going to make sure he went through the same thing. You avoid his eyes as you grab the bag, tearing the sealed edge open with a ripping noise. “This is not accepting your apology. I’m still pissed at you.”

”I get it. You’re mad. I’m hoping you will be less mad.” That bastard. Once he knew he had gotten under your skin, that cocky demeanor was returning already. Regulus even flicks your forehead with a finger, motion dry. “You always liked my money. And I like that you like my money. A good use, at least, for that dirty cash my parents send me to keep me docile.”

”You make me sound like a gold digger.” You snap at him. In a bad mood, everything Regulus said was starting to aggravate you. You push that paper bag into his hands. “Take it, I don’t want it.”

He sighs. “Stop being so difficult. You’re taking everything the wrong way.”

”You’re saying everything the wrong way.” You mutter, scowling at the ceiling. “Quit putting the blame on me.”

Giving in, he pulls the gifts out himself. He waves a white box on top of your face. “Lindt truffles. Are you going to refuse them?” 

Oh. He knew you too well, didn’t he. You turn your face away, determined to be stubborn.

He sets the box on your mattress and pulls out a new book. Unable to resist, you glance at it, peering at the title. Your attention caught, he tries a grin. “That edition of Frankenstein you’d always wanted. Penguin Clothbounds? It was on sale. I saw it on display.”

Letting out another scoff, you hide your face to stuff it in the pillow. This wasn’t going to be easy, was it? That book was something you mentioned at least a month ago, in the middle of the night, mumbled against his hair. When he’d asked you for the most beautiful things you wanted. Drowsy, you started to list all sorts of things, ranging from carnations when they first bloomed and various editions of novels throughout history.

You’d both ignored it when his name emerged from your lips, though. Just a sighed whisper, that it “wasn’t possible; forget about it”. That next morning, you were nearly sure that the entire midnight conversation had been a dream. The only reason you knew it wasn’t was because Regulus had started gifting all those things you listed out, week after week, always offering up some convenient excuse for coming across the gifts.

The exact vintage slip dress that he’d claimed his mother didn’t want. A sleek silver lighter that he supposedly found lying around his room and already had a similar one. Multiple novels, just to name a few of the things he’d given you. Now you carry the lighter around your person, much to the annoyance of your friends when you refused to answer where it was from.

Then, from the paper bag, a pack of cigars. He pops the box open, drawing out a cigarette, nudging your turned-away shoulder. “You’re not about to refuse this, are you? LIttle nicotine addict?”

“Oh, fuck you.” Still refusing to turn over, you wave your hand through the air in an attempt to slap Regulus’ hand away. Your tone is as vicious as you can make it. “I’m trying to quit. You know it.”

He stifles a chuckle. “How successful you are. So it wasn’t you I saw slipping away from class the other day to catch a smoke, was it?”

You finally turn over and huff at him. “Stalking me, are you? Creep.”

He grins victoriously at the sight of your face. “It was a guess,” he mutters smugly. “So it’s true. You did slip out, didn’t you? You’re not quitting anytime soon.”

You sigh. There was no use trying to resist him anymore, was there, with this game of words he was determined to twist you into. “Oh, shut up. Stop making fun of me, Reg. You smoke, too.”

He hums, self-satisfied, and leans back slightly on his palms to incline backwards on your mattress slightly, never taking his gaze off your face. You watch as he places the cigarette in between his cupid’s bow lips, and lights it smoothly, a practiced motion, slipping the lighter back into his pocket. He puffs out the smoke, and places the cigarette in between your lips, eyes hooded. “I won’t deny it, love. And, you can’t deny that you’re not mad at me anymore, either.”

You balance the cigarette in between your fingers, huffing. “…Not by choice.” you say begrudgingly. “And you’re going to make my room smell. There’s a reason why there’s a balcony.”

He rolls his eyes. “Put it out, then, killjoy.”

You ignore his words, insistent on not admitting any fault. The mattress dips under your weight as you move to flop down on the bed fully, kicking off your slippers. You stare at the ceiling and blow out another puff of smoke, purposefully nonchalant. 

Regulus nudges your foot again. You don’t say a word, fixing him with a scowl.

He sighs and pulls himself up to sit cross-legged on the bed as well. “You know,” he mutters, tone smokey, “I think you smell good like this. Always. I’m not complaining about the smell here, ever.”

You throw a pillow in his direction. “What, like nicotine? You have strange tastes.”

“No.” He lies down beside you, a hand hesitantly picking up one of your own. You let out a sharp breath. This wasn’t intimacy, you told yourself. He did this with every other girl, probably. You two weren’t a thing, that’s what he told you himself. The room is quiet when he moves your hand to ghost over his face, save for his sharp intake of breath. “Cinnamon, I think. Old books. Like the library, especially that section with encyclopedias that you like to frequent. And something floral, jasmine, maybe.”

He lets go of your hand and you move it upwards, to toy with his curls. With the other, you stub the cigarette off in the glass ashtray by your bedside, waving away the wisps of grey smoke idly. Regulus turns his head to look in your direction, expression unreadable. You nearly fall into half-sleep, until you hear his voice mutter something.

“What?” you question, voice drowsy and barely audible. The bedsheets rustle as you pull them over yourself, your eyelids pulling themself open, welcomed by the warm candlelit glow of your room. Your haven, the most quintessential part of yourself… which you’d let him in again and again, until Regulus had broken through most of your walls and you’d gotten to know him behind the icy, coveted exterior. Not that it counted towards anything towards anything you could establish.

His eyes flick towards you, and he stills, lips ghosting over your shoulder. “Angel,” he mumbles. His voice is raspy and quiet. “Mon ange. You fell from the skies.”

You will your body to stay still, fighting off a shudder. “Bold thing for you to say.”

He pauses, and you feel his curls brush over your neck. He almost seems to glow in the candlelight, you think drowsily. It almost seemed a miracle that he was here, really, in your arms, in your bed, like he’d fade away and disappear any second now. In the silence, you lay a hand over his, twining your fingers together and feeling the cold of those silver rings he always keeps on. Clutching, trying to remember this moment you knew was bound to be fleeting.

“Why?” he whispers, finally. “You know I adore you.”

You do. But you wished he would show it, you wished for so much more than he was willing to give. “You ignored me earlier this week. Whole week, in fact. On Wednesday morning, we had the same class, I tried to talk to you as a friend, and—“

You pause to catch your breath, voice growing increasingly raw. “You wouldn’t even look at me. Not a word.”

Regulus huffs, giving no response. The silence is cutting, like a knife, and the candlelight doesn’t seem warm anymore but threatening. Hell instead of the heaven he said you fell from. “My friends were there,” he replies. His tone is controlled, carefully cool. “And I didn’t ignore you, I couldn’t see you.” 

You take a breath at this curt response. How was this the boy who brought you presents every week, wrote you letters in the holidays, who let you cry to him in the dead of night? “I don’t understand why you can look at me and pretend you’ve never met me, Regulus. Like we’re strangers. We— we fucking share a bed, most nights.”

He withdraws from his position, shaking his hand from your grasp harshly and presses his lips together. Regulus pulls himself into a cross-legged position on your mattress, wretchedly regal as ever. “Most nights?” he laughs mockingly. “Wow, that’s a joke. How many, hm? Keep deluding yourself, love, we’re not a couple.”

You sit up as well, but now you’re more pleading than angry. “Reg.“ you implore, voice quiet. Your eyes flick to those presents. The silver necklace he’s given you, the emerald snake charm dangling from it, feels especially chilly on your neck. All these things couldn’t mean anything, right? “Don’t be like this.”

He scoffs, avoiding your gaze. “I’m not doing anything. Just- just stating facts—”

Lie. You both know it.

“—and we’re casual.”

But if he wouldn’t admit it, what could you do? Your shoulders slump. “Really. Really, Reg?”

“Really.” He rolls his eyes, but you can tell it’s not genuine. Even the viciousness in his tone feels forced, injected, as he stares at the wall, adamant on not putting his attention on you. “Your choice. I can leave, love, if you’re going to throw a tantrum now.”

Defeated, you ease back into the sheets. You’ll take what you can, from this beautiful, beautiful boy, who had all his weaknesses and all his walls, who wouldn’t let you in for the life of him. 

“Fine. C’mere.” 

He sighs. Winning this argument didn’t seem to be of any victory to him. His shoulders loosen, and you know that you’ve both lost the game.

 “Alright, love.”

And how long was this going to continue?