Hola amigo! This just a blog for me reblog the shit i read on here and the occasional rant but we're gonna ignore those yeah? ty ly.
Main: @yourstargirlyyy xxx
CODE 143 (ILY) - PT.01
pairing: hacker!seungmin x fem!reader
ss count: 21
tags/warnings: roasting/banter, seungmin being a tsundere (and bad at flirting), you got ur info stolen rip
part one | part two tbc
summary: you hate scammers. you're sick and tired of getting spam calls and texts. so, when your credit card information gets stolen and then your entire bank account is compromised, you take justice into your own hands by reaching out to a vigilante hacker who is, admittedly, kind of cute.
a/n: this is a personal dream of mine. my injustice sensitivity awakens that dawg in me...
a/n: lmk if you wanna be in a taglist for this series, lmao. i'm unsure if this will be a smau-fic or just smau yet. we'll see.
divider made by me but got pic from Pinterest
PLEASE give us more sports/roommate Bucky who just pines after reader. A man who yearns is a man who earns. Like reader views him as more of a friend to keep from getting hurt but Bucky wants to prove he can be the guy for her! Acts of service! I just love your Bucky, he’s perfect
Pairing: College Roommate!Bucky x Reader
Word count: 540
Warnings: pining <3
a/n: I think I'm going to do a wee bit more drabbles because they are inspiring me :) This one was sooo cutie to write.
____________________________________________
"Hey—what the hell are you doing?"
Bucky shot up from the cupboard, cursing as his head hit the top. He rubbed at the sore spot and gave you a sheepish grin from across the kitchen.
"Uh, nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing," you accused. The entire inside of your fridge seemed to be splayed out over the counters, and you could distinctly remember telling your roommate that you were planning on having a bowl of cereal for dinner and calling it a night.
Bucky gave in after only three seconds of your pointed stare. He dropped his shoulders in a sigh. "C'mon, I know you've had a tough week. You didn't really think I was gonna let you have cereal for dinner, did you?"
"I think I'm a grown-up that can handle a shitty dinner once in a while."
"Sure," he shrugged. He turned back to the lit stove, stirring the contents of a pot. "But you don't have to. That's why I'm here."
A familiar pang worked its way down to the tips of your fingers. He always said things that made you feel... off—did things that made your breath get stuck in your throat. You typically ignored those feelings, too familiar with the hurt that came after.
Bucky always felt different, though. He always tried. Always. And you could tell that it meant something more to him. That when he looked at you, it felt like he was looking at the whole world wrapped up into one person.
It was too much.
He didn't seem to mind your continued feigned ignorance.
"No, you're here to pay half the rent," you countered, still shuffling into the seat at the bar despite your arguments.
"I'll do that too," he smiled—a cheeky grin that fit perfectly over his shoulder. He eyed you then, letting his gaze flit over your body as you sat. He turned back to the stove. "You didn't wear a jacket?"
He had a habit of not looking at you when he did things like this. It took you a while to notice. You figured it was his attempt at not scaring you off.
"Didn't really need one." You fiddled with the bowl on the bar counter, plucking at the fruit stickers on the apples. He'd got them at the farmer's market last week—walked beside you and held each bag. "It was only one class."
"Still freezing out there. I put your hoodie by the door so you could grab it."
Bucky turned with a bowl full of food, setting it down in front of you as he leaned on the connecting counter and became eye-level with you. He had a towel on his shoulder, and his arms flexed as he clasped his hands in front of him.
You gave him a sarcastic grin. "What are you, my keeper?"
He kept his eyes on you as you reached for the spoon he had laid out before you even got home. It was at the seat you always chose and right next to a glass of water you hadn't asked for. Bucky rolled his eyes. He tapped your chin when you ignored him more.
He had his back turned towards you once more as he called out, "Something like that."
warnings: not proof read. rip. i'll edit the mistakes tmr lol. this is another self indulgent piece bye
timeline: idk this is not a canon event but just imagine endgame never happened. i like to imagine him with the metal arm (not the vibranium one) but i think this can be seen with any
summary: the team discovers bucky's relationship with you when bucky searches for you in the hospital after hydra attacks new york
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“we just got the last of them on the east side. does anyone need backup?” natasha’s voice rings through the comms. tony’s response comes within a few seconds.
“air is neutral up here.”
“we’re just about wrapping up here,” steve adds on. “let’s reconvene on fifth and check in with emergency services.” he glances at bucky who stands on his left, stoically waiting for the next command. bucky nods at steve’s silent question, you ready?
they step over a pile of rubble. bucky reloads his gun, placing it back in its holster and starting a light jog as steve leads them away from the scene behind them. hydra had sent many reinforcements after the team had done a recon mission at an abandoned hydra base that was unknowingly more important to them than the avengers had initially realized. new york came to bear the consequences, just as the city always did. something about high populated cities… or whatever steve told the team as they were gearing up a few hours ago.
they turn the next few blocks and see sam land beside wanda and clint, his wings collapsing into his jet-backpack. tony joins them, already starting his updates.
“nypd called in the national guard to detain as many of the human reinforcements as they could,” he fiddles with some tech on his arm. “emt said graybar, seagram, and chanin had some pretty heavy bombings. victims are being relo-”
“chanin?” bucky cuts in. most of his teammates look at him with shocked faces. “did you say the chanin building?”
“yes, tinman.” tony retorts. “victims are being relocated to the closest hospitals in the area.”
“which ones?”
slightly annoyed, tony turns to look at him. “does it matter?”
bucky’s jaw clenches. “yes. it does.”
sam cuts in.“there’s five hospitals within a mile of here, there’s no way you’re going to know where one person went, bucky.”
“i don’t give a fuck.” he’s definitive and it shuts everyone up. “i want to know which hospitals.”
with a sigh, steve concedes and jogs over to the paramedic perched on the end of an ambulance, assisting a woman with a cut on her eyebrow.
bucky decides to make his way over too, only hearing the tail end of the conversation as steve says ‘thank you.’
“well?”
steve sighs again. “he said lagone is the closest, but frank ross hospital and tisch are taking in some too because the influx is so bad.”
bucky doesn’t even reply, jogging off in the direction of the first hospital and leaving steve in the middle of the road, stunned.
clint breaks the silence. “where is he going?”
“to the hospital, i guess?” steve sounds unsure in his response, still watching as bucky gets smaller and smaller as the distance between them increases.
“maybe we should go with him.” wanda suggests. “we still need to debrief and do our write ups.”
natasha gives her a side eye and wanda laughs.
“just following orders.” she exaggerates, teasing natasha and steve for their insistence on following the protocols.
“alright let’s go, then.” tony thrusts upward, sam following him up as everyone else begins to jog in bucky’s direction.
but bucky is fast. they don’t realize how much until they almost lose him two blocks over. they trail behind him as he bursts through the emergency room, charging towards the front desk.
“do you have a patient named y/n?” he begins to spell out your name letter by letter until the desk attendant interrupts.
“sir, i need you to step into the waiting room unless you need immediate medical care.” the room around them is a flurry of crying people, overwhelmed nurses, and helpless policeman who try to reorganize the growing number of patients.
“no, i need you to check if you have a patient under the name of y/-”
the team stands by the entrance, watching the interaction unfold but not quite understanding it.
“who is he looking for?”
everyone turns to steve assuming he knows, but his face shows just as much confusion. “i don’t know.”
“please,” bucky starts again. “do you have a patient register for today’s patients?”
with a click of her tongue, she hands bucky a clipboard with several papers on it. bucky’s eyes scan the names, worry etched on his face when he doesn’t see yours.
“sorry.” he mumbles, leaving the clipboard on the counter and turning around. he stops when he sees the team, but moves past them when he remembers what he’s doing.
anxiety is gnawing at him as he finds his motorcycle parked by the quinjet a few blocks away. he immediately drives off towards the next hospital, worried as ever that something has happened to you. you aren’t answering his calls, not texting him back, and he can’t find your location on the little app you taught him how to use. he doesn’t know what else to do.
the team can barely keep up, trying their best to help the people around them as they trail after bucky. they still don’t know what he’s doing or who he’s looking for.
by the third hospital, bucky is fed up and on the verge of a breakdown. he only has so much patience at this point, and sam is all too familiar with the signs.
“do you have a patient under the name y/n?” it’s the third time in the last hour he’s desperately asked a nurse at a front desk. he does the same thing, spelling out your name letter by letter until the nurse interrupts him.
“you’ll have to wait to check the registry list after all the patients have been attended to.”
“how long is that going to take?” his voice is laced with attitude, and he almost feels bad if not for the pit of anxiety swelling in his stomach.
“sir, you’re wasting my time.”
“bucky, c’mon, let’s go.” steve reaches to hold bucky’s shoulder, but he shrugs it off.
“no, goddammit!” he’s fuming, turning back to the nurse. “i need you to tell me if you have a patient, y/n barnes. i’m her next of kin.” he slams his fist on the counter. steve takes a step back towards sam, in shock at the information.
“does he have, like, a niece?” sam asks. “did he tell you anything about his sister? maybe she had a family after-”
“yes, i see her name listed here. only immediate family can see her.”
“i am immediate family!”
“sir, unless you are a parent or her husband, you need to wait until all th-”
“i am her husband!” he slams his ring down on the counter, gripping onto it like he depends on it, because he can’t risk losing you. “take me to see me wife right now.”
with a nod, she leads bucky down a hallway of rooms, turning left into the very first room. she makes her way back towards the front desk where steve has now approached.
“hi, ma’am. would you mind if-” steve gestures towards the room. the nurse’s jaw drops at seeing the vibranium shield, clint’s bow, and tony stark standing there with a partially deconstructed nano-tech suit.
“go right ahead.” she stutters out, watching the avengers trail after the man with the metal arm. they stop in the doorway, huddled as they watch.
“y/n?” bucky steps towards the hospital bed.
you aren’t even laying in it. you’re sitting on the edge of it staring out a window, back facing the door. at the sound of his voice, you whip around. tear streaks stain your face.
“bucky, oh my god-” you run into his chest, engulfing him in a hug. he sighs into your hair, smelling you and breathing in relief at the sight.
“you’re okay, it’s okay.” he coos, rubbing your back. “what happened? are you hurt?”
you shake your head, still nuzzled into his chest. you peer up at him, “paramedics found me unconscious. it’s just a concussion, but they brought me in anyways. i just have a couple stitches.” you gesture to your calf. “rough fall after i got knocked out, i guess.”
he nods, pulling you in for a kiss. it’s desperate and full of love and every emotion he’d felt in the last two hours.
“i thought- i thou-”
“no.” you cut him off. “i tried to find a phone but nothing was going through. i saw the weird alien dogs coming from a giant truck, and- and the hydra symbol was plastered all along the sides i thought maybe they-” you can’t even finish your sentence, too overwhelmed at the possibility.
“never.” he kisses your forehead, holding your face in both his hands. “they could never take me from you.”
you rest your forehead against his, inhaling the scent of your husband and gripping onto him because you never want to leave him again.
“so..” tony cuts in. “wife?”
“tony!” natasha scolds. “get back here!”
clint tries his best not to laugh but he can barely hold it in.
sam is next to join in. “when did this happen?” he looks at steve with a quirked brow. “did you know?”
“i swear i didn’t.”
“a wife.” sam repeats. “you didn’t know your best friend has a wife.”
“he’s a trained spy!”
“and a former soviet asset.” clint confers. “you’d think you would keep more tabs on the guy.”
steve rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to bucky.
“is she really your wife?”
bucky nods reluctantly, a little sheepish as you hold up your left hand to show them your rings.
“for four years now.”
“FOUR YEARS????”
“sam-”
“and you NEVER SAID ANYTHING?”
“guys” nat pays no mind to sam’s ramblings. “i think we can all agree how hard it is to live life as an avenger. it’s not like clint was exactly honest about his family, either.”
“i thought you were on my side!” he huffs.
“whatever.” sam pouts. “i wish i could’ve gone to the wedding.”
“we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” bucky smiles appreciatively at steve, who starts moving back towards the exit. “maybe we can talk about this when everything settles down and she gets out of the hospital.” steve looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time. deep down, he’s glad his best friend found the one thing he’s wanted his whole life. “right bucky?”
bucky nods.
“okay,” steve smiles understandingly. “debrief is tomorrow at noon. don’t be late.”
bucky turns back to you as the team leaves your hospital room.
“i guess the secrets out.”
bucky nods in agreement. “i’m really glad you’re okay.”
Synopsis: When your sister tries to steal Seungmin, he makes one thing painfully clear: he only has eyes for you.
A/n: omgg this took so long to edit ive been putting this off for ages but i finally did it! I also couldn’t help but sprinkle in some poly skz x reader lmaooa
Wc: 20.1k
Part 2
The first warning came when your sister texted you three times that morning to ask exactly when you and Seungmin would be arriving. The second came when she opened the front door wearing a dress you distinctly remembered her describing as far too nice for family things.
You looked at her. She looked at you.
Neither of you said anything for a moment. Then Seungmin appeared behind you, one hand holding a neatly wrapped cake box and the other resting comfortably against the small of your back. “Hi,” he said brightly. Your sister’s entire expression changed.
“Seungmin.” She smiled as though she had been expecting him personally. “Finally.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. He glanced down at you. His eyebrows lifted slightly.
Finally? You bit the inside of your cheek. Your sister stepped aside to let you both in, although she somehow managed to position herself so Seungmin had to pass close to her. He murmured a polite thank you and guided you ahead of him with a gentle hand at your waist. You had been dating long enough that the gesture barely registered anymore. Seungmin was always touching you in small, absent-minded ways—his fingers brushing yours as you walked, his palm settling on your knee beneath tables, his hand finding the back of your coat when you crossed a road.
It was rarely dramatic. It was simply constant. Your sister noticed. Her gaze dropped to his hand before moving back to his face.
“You look different in person,” she told him. Seungmin paused while removing his shoes. “Do I?” “Better.”
You turned away before either of them could see your smile. Seungmin placed his shoes neatly beside yours, then leaned closer to whisper, “Am I supposed to say she does too?” “No.” “Good.”
You elbowed him lightly. He caught your arm and squeezed it against his side, looking pleased with himself. Your sister was still watching. “You brought something?” she asked, nodding towards the box in his hand.
“Cake,” Seungmin said. “Your mum said she liked the one from that bakery near our flat.” “That was thoughtful.” “She sent him a photograph of it with the address circled,” you said. Seungmin looked offended.
“She provided helpful guidance.” “She threatened to disown me if we arrived without it.” “Still thoughtful.” “You didn’t even pay for it.”
“I carried it.” “You made me carry it on the train.” “For part of the journey.” “You said your arm hurt.”
“It did.” “Because you spent the entire morning playing games.” Seungmin smiled at your sister. “She has no sympathy for my suffering.” “None,” you confirmed.
Your sister laughed a little too enthusiastically. Not because the conversation had been particularly funny, but because Seungmin was smiling while he said it. You noticed. You also noticed the way she tucked her hair behind her ear before asking, “Do you want me to take that for you?”
She reached for the cake. Seungmin shifted it away automatically. “No, it’s all right. I’ve been entrusted with it.” “He’ll cry if anything happens to it,” you said.
“I’ll tell your mum it was your fault.” “You see what I live with?” Seungmin bumped his shoulder against yours. “You love it.” You opened your mouth to disagree.
He looked down at you expectantly, the beginnings of a grin already pulling at his lips. You hated how well he knew you. “Whatever,” you said. “There it is.”
He bent and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before following the sound of your mother calling from the kitchen. Your sister remained by the door with you. She watched him leave. Then she looked at you.
“You never said he was that handsome.” You blinked. “You’ve seen photographs.” “Photographs are different.” “I suppose.”
“He’s taller than I thought.” You stared at her. She stared back, seemingly unaware that there was anything strange about the intensity of her assessment. “Do you need his measurements?” you asked. “I can check the label in his coat.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was only saying.” “Right.” “You don’t have to be weird about it.”
“I’m not being weird.” “You’re doing that face.” “What face?” “The face you do when you think you’re funny.”
“I am funny.” “Seungmin clearly thinks so.” There was something strange beneath the words. Something slightly too pointed. Before you could decide whether you had imagined it, she smiled and linked her arm through yours.
“Come on. Mum’s been panicking over lunch for an hour.” She pulled you towards the kitchen as though nothing had happened. You let her. At that point, it was easier.
౨ৎ
Your mum adored Seungmin. That was hardly news. She adored him because he arrived on time, complimented her cooking, remembered details from conversations they had months ago and always insisted on helping clear the table. Your dad liked him because Seungmin could discuss football with convincing enthusiasm and had once spent nearly forty minutes helping him fix a temperamental television.
Even your relatives who had only met Seungmin briefly tended to approve of him. He was polite without seeming rehearsed, funny without demanding attention and attentive in a way that made people feel remembered. Your sister had apparently taken all of these qualities as an invitation. At first, you didn’t think much of it.
She asked him about work. Normal. She asked about the other members. Also normal. She asked whether he enjoyed travelling, what food he liked and whether he preferred going out or staying at home. A little interview-like, perhaps, but not particularly suspicious.
Then she moved from the chair opposite him to the empty one beside him when your mother asked her to fetch another plate. You looked at the abandoned chair. Then at her. She smiled innocently and crossed one leg over the other.
Seungmin glanced towards you. You were sitting on his other side, close enough that your knees touched beneath the table. He nudged your foot. You nudged him back.
His mouth twitched. Your sister leaned towards him. “So,” she said, “what did you think when you first met her?” You nearly inhaled your drink.
Seungmin turned towards you slowly. “Oh, no,” you said. His eyes brightened. “Oh, yes.”
“Don’t.” “I thought she was very strange.” Your mother laughed from the other end of the table. You stared at him. “That isn’t what you said before.”
“You told me not to embarrass you in front of your family.” “And this is you behaving?” “This is me being generous.” Your sister laughed, resting her hand against Seungmin’s arm.
It was light. Brief enough that she could claim it meant nothing. Still, you saw it. Seungmin looked down at her fingers. Your sister removed them a moment later, smiling as though the contact had been accidental.
“What did you actually think?” she asked. Seungmin looked back at you. The teasing softened around the edges. “I thought she was pretty.”
The answer was simple enough to make warmth spread through your chest. Then his smile returned. “Until she spoke.” You kicked his shin beneath the table.
He flinched dramatically. “See?” he told your family. “Violence.” “You deserved that.” “I complimented you.”
“You immediately ruined it.” “I said you were pretty.” “You said I was strange.” “You are strange.”
Your sister tilted her head. “I suppose you must usually date girls who are quite different from her.” The sentence slipped into the conversation so smoothly that it took you a second to understand it. Seungmin frowned slightly. “Different how?”
Your sister shrugged. “You know. More… elegant.” Your father suddenly became very interested in cutting his food. Your mother looked up.
You glanced down at yourself. You were wearing a jumper and trousers. Nothing particularly inelegant, unless your sister was counting the tiny mark on your sleeve from where Seungmin had flicked sauce at you in the kitchen. Seungmin followed your gaze. Then he looked at your sister.
“No,” he said. “I like this one.” You pressed your lips together. “This one?” you repeated. He patted your knee beneath the table.
“My favourite.” “I’m so flattered.” “You should be.” Your sister laughed, but there was something strained about it.
“I only meant that you seem very put together.” “I’m not,” Seungmin said cheerfully. “She found me looking for my phone this morning while I was talking to someone on it.” He looked towards your mother. “You raised a very critical daughter.” Your mum smiled. “She gets it from me.”
“Good to know.” The conversation moved on, but your sister did not return to her original chair. Every few minutes, she found another reason to address Seungmin directly. Did he like the food?
Had he visited the restaurant she mentioned? Did he think her hair looked better dark or light? That one made you turn. She lifted a section of her hair between her fingers.
“I’ve been thinking of changing it,” she explained. “What do you think?” Seungmin blinked. “I don’t know.” “You must have a preference.”
“For your hair?” She laughed as though he had made a joke. “Generally.” He looked at you. You had stopped pretending not to listen.
A hint of mischief appeared in his expression. “I like hers.” You narrowed your eyes. “You said I’d look good bald.” “You would.”
“That doesn’t count.” “It shows versatility.” Your sister’s hand fell from her hair. “You’re lucky,” she told you.
The words sounded pleasant. The way she looked at Seungmin did not. You raised an eyebrow. “I know.” “I mean, you’ve never really cared about things like that.”
“Things like what?” “Your appearance.” Silence settled over the table. It wasn’t complete silence. Your father’s fork scraped faintly against his plate, and the clock in the hallway continued ticking.
But the conversation stopped. Your sister smiled as though she had offered you a compliment. “You’ve always been confident enough not to bother,” she added. You knew this routine.
It had existed long before Seungmin. Your sister would say something cruel with a pleasant expression, and if you reacted, she would insist you had misunderstood. That she admired your confidence. That she wished she could leave the house without making an effort. That you were lucky not to care what people thought. Normally, you could ignore it. Today, the comment felt particularly childish.
You opened your mouth, but Seungmin spoke first. “She spent forty minutes choosing that jumper.” You turned towards him in disbelief. Your sister laughed.
Seungmin continued, “Then she asked me which trousers looked better and ignored my answer.” You nudged his side with your elbow. He caught your hand before you could pull it away and linked your fingers beneath the table. The gesture was concealed from everyone else.
His thumb brushed once over your knuckles. You understood what he was doing. He hadn’t ignored your sister’s comment. He had simply refused to let it settle over you.
“She looks lovely,” your mother said firmly. “She does,” Seungmin agreed. Your sister’s smile tightened. “I never said she didn’t.”
“No one said you did,” you replied. Her gaze met yours. For a moment, something sharp passed between you. Then Seungmin squeezed your hand and leaned close enough that his shoulder pressed against yours.
“You have something on your face,” he whispered. You immediately touched your cheek. “Where?” “The other side.” You touched the other cheek.
“No, lower.” “Seungmin.” “A little lower.” You glared at him. “There’s nothing there, is there?”
He smiled. “You’re so easy.” You tried to pull your hand from his. He tightened his grip.
“Don’t be sulky.” “I hate you.” Your sister watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. You barely noticed.
౨ৎ
After lunch, your mother attempted to stop Seungmin from helping with the dishes. Seungmin ignored her. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, collected the empty plates and followed you into the kitchen. Your sister followed him.
Naturally. “You don’t have to do that,” she told him, taking a plate from his hands. “It’s fine.” “You’re a guest.”
“So is she.” Seungmin nodded towards you. You were leaning against the counter eating a piece of cake. Your sister looked at you.
“She’s family.” “She isn’t helping.” “I’m supervising,” you said. “You’re eating the dessert we haven’t served yet.”
“I’m checking it for poison.” Seungmin set the plates beside the sink. “And?” You took another bite.
“Still collecting evidence.” He reached towards your plate. You moved it out of reach. “Get your own.”
“I bought it.” “I paid for it.” “With our money.” “We don’t have shared finances.”
Your sister laughed again. “You two are funny.” You glanced at her. The compliment sounded genuine enough, but her eyes remained fixed on Seungmin.
He turned on the tap. Your sister stepped beside him. “I’ll wash,” she offered. “I can do it.”
“You dry, then.” You watched her pick up a sponge. Your mother called your name from the living room, asking whether you could help her find something. You pushed yourself away from the counter.
“Don’t eat my cake,” you warned Seungmin. “I would never.” “You absolutely would.” He placed one hand over his heart.
“Your lack of trust is upsetting.” You pointed the fork at him. “I’ll know.” “Go away.” You reluctantly carried the plate with you.
As you left the kitchen, you glanced back. Your sister had moved slightly closer to Seungmin. He was focused on rinsing a plate. You nearly stayed.
Then you caught yourself. It was your sister. Seungmin was your boyfriend. Nothing was going to happen because the two of them spent ninety seconds alone beside a sink.
You found your mother’s glasses on top of her head, endured several minutes of her insisting she had already checked there and returned to the kitchen. Your sister was speaking. “…must get tiring.” Seungmin passed her another plate. “What does?”
“Dating someone so different from you.” You stopped just outside the doorway. Seungmin didn’t appear to notice you. He frowned. “You’ve said that a few times.”
“I don’t mean it badly.” “What do you mean?” Your sister dried the plate slowly. “You’re very disciplined. Ambitious. You take care of yourself.”
He waited. “And she isn’t?” “She’s just more relaxed.” Seungmin looked down at the soapy water.
You knew that expression. He was choosing his words. Your sister mistook his silence for agreement. “I’ve always been more like you,” she continued. “Even when we were younger. People used to say I was the more responsible one.”
“Did they?” “And the more confident one.” Seungmin made a small sound that could have meant anything. Your sister smiled.
“It’s funny, really. Most people usually notice me first.” He glanced at her. “Okay.” You pressed your lips together.
She appeared thrown by the response. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant.” “Then don’t.” The answer was delivered so lightly that for a second, you wondered whether you had heard him correctly.
Your sister laughed uncertainly. “I’m only being honest.” Seungmin rinsed another plate. “About people noticing you?”
“Yes.” “Congratulations.” You had to cover your mouth. Your sister’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You must have noticed that we’re quite different.” “I’ve noticed.” “I’m probably more like your usual type.” Seungmin finally turned off the tap.
He looked at her properly. “What’s my usual type?” Your sister leaned one hip against the counter. “Confident. Sophisticated.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” “I’m guessing.” “You’ve guessed wrong.” She smiled as though he were teasing her.
“Have I?” “Yes.” Something about his tone should have ended the conversation. It didn’t.
Your sister lowered her voice. “She’s always been the sweeter one, I suppose. Men tend to like that.” Seungmin stared at her. Then his gaze moved past her shoulder and found you standing in the doorway.
His expression changed immediately. The irritation disappeared behind a slow, knowing smile. “How long have you been there?” he asked. Your sister turned sharply.
You lifted your plate. “Long enough to know you’ve been having a very interesting discussion about your type.” Seungmin dried his hands. “Apparently, I have one.”
“Do you?” “I’m learning a lot today.” Your sister straightened. “We were only talking.” “I heard.”
“There’s no need to make it strange.” You stepped into the kitchen and placed your half-finished cake on the counter. “I didn’t.” “No, but you’re doing that thing where you act territorial.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows rose. You laughed. “Territorial?” “You don’t need to hover every time another woman speaks to your boyfriend.” “I was helping Mum.”
“And then you came straight back.” “Because this is where my cake is.” Seungmin immediately reached for your plate. You slapped his hand away.
“See?” He looked wounded. “You care more about that cake than you care about me.” “The cake has never stolen my crisps.”
“It would if it could.” Your sister sighed. “You’re both impossible.” “Thank you,” Seungmin said.
You picked up your fork again. Your sister gave you a long look before placing the tea towel on the counter. “I’m going to see if Mum needs anything.” “She doesn’t,” you said. “Her glasses were on her head.”
Your sister ignored you and left. You waited until her footsteps had faded down the hall. Then you turned towards Seungmin. He was already looking at you.
A smile pulled at your mouth. “Your usual type?” He groaned and leaned back against the sink. “Please don’t.”
“So much like her.” Seungmin reached for you. You dodged around the kitchen island, laughing when he followed. “I’m only being honest,” you said, mimicking your sister’s voice.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.” “Apparently she’s the woman of your dreams.” “My dreams have better conversational skills.” You gasped. “That was mean.”
“It was accurate.” He moved to one side of the island. You moved in the opposite direction. “I thought you liked confident women.”
“I like you.” “That wasn’t the question.” “It’s my answer.” “You’re only saying that because I caught you.”
“Caught me doing dishes?” “Seductively.” “I was wearing rubber gloves.” “Exactly. Very provocative.”
Seungmin stopped. You stopped too, watching him suspiciously from across the island. His expression softened. “Did that bother you?”
The question was quiet enough to dissolve some of your amusement. You considered it. “Not really.” “Not really?”
“I don’t think you’re secretly going to run away with my sister.” “That’s reassuring.” “I’d give you at least a week before you begged me to take you back.” “A week?”
“Maybe four days.” Seungmin looked offended. “I wouldn’t make it through the first evening.” You smiled. He continued to watch you.
“But?” he prompted. You looked down at your cake. “She does that sometimes.” “Does what?”
“Compares us.” You scraped your fork lightly through the icing. “She always has. She thinks she’s being subtle.” “She isn’t.” “I know.” “She also thinks I’m an idiot.”
You laughed. “Why?” “Because I’ve said I like you at least twelve times today, and she’s decided that means I’m interested in her.” “Maybe you’re sending mixed signals.” “I asked her to move because she was standing on my foot.”
“Very flirtatious.” “She apologised and touched my arm.” “Scandalous.” “She’s touched my arm six times.”
“You counted?” “I started counting when she asked whether I thought she looked better with dark hair.” You laughed again, and Seungmin smiled. Then he walked around the island.
This time, you let him reach you. His hands settled on your waist, drawing you between his knees as he leaned back against the counter. “For the record,” he said, “I don’t think you’re lucky.” “No?”
“No. I think I’m incredibly brave.” You flicked his shoulder. He caught your wrist and kissed your palm. “And lucky,” he added.
“That was nearly sweet.” “Don’t tell anyone.” You rolled your eyes, but your arms slipped around his shoulders. He tilted his head.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” “I’m fine.” “Your sister’s being strange.” “She thinks she can steal you.”
“Can she?” You pretended to consider it. Seungmin pinched your side. You squealed and tried to twist away, but he trapped you against him.
“Answer carefully,” he warned. “I don’t know. She is very sophisticated.” Another pinch. “And confident!”
He attacked your other side. You dissolved into helpless laughter, nearly dropping your fork as you attempted to escape. “Seungmin!” “Wrong answer.”
“She’s your type!” “Take it back.” “Never!” He caught both your wrists in one hand and used the other to tickle your waist.
You kicked uselessly at his legs. “You’re horrible!” “Take it back.” “Fine!” you gasped. “She isn’t your type.”
“And?” “And you don’t want her.” “And?” You stared at him, breathless.
His hair had fallen over his forehead during the struggle, and his smile was bright and boyish and entirely too pleased. “And you’re obsessed with me.” “There we go.” He released your wrists.
You immediately smacked his chest. Seungmin laughed and caught you against him again, pressing a noisy kiss to your cheek before you could complain. “You’re very annoying,” you told him. “You were laughing.”
“Against my will.” He kissed your other cheek. “Still counts.” Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
You both separated just before your mother entered the kitchen. She looked at Seungmin’s messy hair, your flushed face and the abandoned washing-up. Neither of you spoke. Your mother sighed.
“The dishes, Seungmin.” “I was doing them.” “He attacked me,” you said. “You provoked me.”
Your mother pointed at the sink. “Both of you.” “Yes, Mum,” you said. “Yes, Mum,” Seungmin echoed.
You turned to glare at him. He smiled innocently. Your mother left the room shaking her head. Seungmin bumped his hip against yours as he turned the tap back on.
“Pass me the sponge.” “You pass me the sponge.” “It’s closer to you.” “You’re closer to the sink.”
He looked towards the doorway, then lowered his voice. “Do you think your sister would do it for me?” You stared at him. He managed to hold a serious expression for approximately two seconds.
Then you shoved the sponge directly into his chest.
౨ৎ
When you finally prepared to leave, your mother packed enough food for several days into a bag and made Seungmin promise to visit again soon. Your sister stood in the hallway while you put on your coat. “You’re leaving already?” she asked. “We’ve been here for five hours,” you said.
“It doesn’t feel that long.” Seungmin bent to tie his shoelace. Your sister’s gaze lingered on him. “You should come over more often.”
“We will,” you replied. “I meant Seungmin.” He looked up. Your sister smiled. “You don’t need to wait for her. You’re practically part of the family now.”
There it was. Not quite enough to confront. More than enough to notice. Seungmin straightened.
“I think she’d be upset if I visited without her.” “I wouldn’t,” you said. “I’d enjoy the peace.” He placed one hand on top of your head and pushed down lightly. Your sister laughed.
“You’re very patient with her.” Seungmin looked at you. “No,” he said. “She’s patient with me.” For once, there was no joke attached.
His hand slid from the top of your head to the back of your neck, thumb brushing softly beneath your hair. Your sister’s smile faded for half a second. Then it returned. “Well,” she said, opening the door, “it was lovely seeing you.”
“You too,” Seungmin replied politely. She hugged you first. It was brief. Then she turned towards Seungmin.
You expected her to offer a wave. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him. Seungmin froze. His hands hovered uncertainly beside her shoulders.
Your eyes widened. Over your sister’s head, his gaze found yours. His expression was so openly alarmed that a laugh burst out of you. Your sister released him.
“What’s funny?” “Nothing.” Seungmin stepped immediately towards you. You were still laughing as he took the bag of food from your hand and placed his other arm securely around your shoulders.
Your sister glanced between you. “Text me when you’re home.” “I will.” She looked at Seungmin. “You have my number, don’t you?”
“No,” he said. “Oh.” She paused. “I thought you did.” “Why would he?” you asked. “In case of an emergency.”
Seungmin nodded. “I’ll call emergency services.” You choked on another laugh. Your sister’s mouth tightened. “I only meant if something happened with you.”
“He has Mum’s number.” “And her Dad’s,” Seungmin added. “And Chan’s,” you said. “And Minho’s.”
“He doesn’t need your number.” Your sister folded her arms. “You make everything sound strange.” “You asked my boyfriend whether he had your number.”
“For emergencies.” “Right.” Seungmin gently steered you through the doorway before either of you could continue. “Thank you for lunch,” he called politely.
Your mother called goodbye from somewhere inside the house. Your sister remained at the door while the two of you walked down the path. You could feel her watching. Seungmin’s arm stayed around you until you reached the pavement.
Then he leaned close. “Don’t look now.” You immediately looked back. Your sister was still standing in the doorway.
She lifted her hand when she saw you turn. You waved. Seungmin sighed. “I specifically said not to.”
“I don’t take instructions well.” “I know.” The door finally closed. You walked several more steps in silence.
Then Seungmin said, “Your sister wants me.” You stopped. He stopped beside you. The solemn expression on his face lasted less than a second before you both started laughing.
“Your confidence is disgusting,” you told him.
౨ৎ
Your sister arrived at your flat on Saturday afternoon wearing heeled boots, a fitted coat and enough perfume to announce her presence before you had even opened the door. You looked at her. Then at the small handbag hanging from her shoulder. Then back at her.
“You said you were coming to borrow my straighteners.” “I am.” “Are you planning to straighten your hair here?” “No.”
“Then why do you look like you’re going somewhere?” She frowned. “I’m meeting someone later.” “You didn’t mention that.” “I didn’t realise I needed to submit an itinerary.”
“You don’t.” “Then why are you interrogating me?” “I asked one question.” “You asked three.”
You stepped aside to let her enter. She walked past you, removing her coat as she went. The outfit beneath it was somehow even more carefully chosen. You watched her smooth the fabric over her waist before checking her reflection in the hallway mirror.
Interesting. Very interesting. “You could have texted,” you said, closing the door. “I would’ve brought the straighteners to Mum’s tomorrow.” “I was nearby.”
She wasn’t. Your sister lived nearly forty minutes in the opposite direction. You decided not to point that out. From the living room, Seungmin called, “Who is it?”
Your sister’s posture changed almost imperceptibly. Her shoulders pulled back. Her expression softened. You stared at her.
She ignored you. “Your favourite person,” you called. There was a pause. Then Seungmin replied, “Felix?”
You gasped. Your sister laughed. You marched into the living room, already preparing several punishments. Seungmin was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table.
A pale blue fabric headband held his hair away from his face, and there was a thin layer of clay mask drying across his cheeks because you had told him his skin looked tired. He had complained for eleven minutes. Then he had asked whether there was enough left for his forehead. Your left hand rested carefully on top of an old magazine while Seungmin held your right between both of his.
Three of your fingernails were painted. One was half-painted. The fifth had somehow acquired a streak of polish across your skin. Seungmin looked up as you entered.
The smile on his face widened. “There’s my second-favourite person.” You stopped in front of him. “Second?”
“Felix bakes for me.” “I cook for you.” “You once burned instant noodles.” “The packet was confusing.”
“You forgot the water.” “It didn’t say when to add it.” You placed one foot against his thigh and pushed lightly. Seungmin caught your ankle.
“No kicking near the nail polish.” “You deserve worse.” “You asked me to do this.” “And you’re doing a terrible job.”
He looked down at your nails. “They’re beautiful.” “There’s polish on my knuckle.” Your sister appeared behind you.
Seungmin glanced towards her. His expression flickered with surprise before settling into a pleasant smile. “Oh. Hi.” “Hi.”
Your sister looked him over. Her gaze paused at the headband. Then the face mask. Then your hand resting in his.
Her smile faltered, only slightly. “I didn’t know you were here.” You turned your head towards her. She knew.
You had mentioned it the previous evening when she asked what you were doing this weekend. Seungmin did not appear to remember that. “I live here sometimes,” he said. “You don’t,” you replied.
Your sister moved further into the room. “You look comfortable,” she said. Seungmin touched the edge of the headband. “This was forced on me.”
“You asked whether the bow should go in the middle,” you said. Your sister laughed, lowering herself onto the sofa behind him. “It suits you.” Seungmin looked up at her.
“The face mask?” “The headband.” He touched it again. “Thanks.”
Her smile brightened. You watched her tuck one leg elegantly over the other. Seungmin returned his attention to your hand. “Stop moving.”
“I’m not moving.” “You’re moving now.” “Because you told me not to.” He tightened his fingers around yours.
“If you smudge this one, I’m starting again.” “You’ve already smudged it.” “That was intentional.” “Was the polish on my skin intentional too?”
“Yes.” “What was the artistic vision?” “Annoying you.” You tried to pull your hand away.
Seungmin held on. “Stay still.” “You’re enjoying the authority.” “I rarely have any in this relationship.”
“Because you can’t be trusted.” Your sister leaned forwards. “You let him paint your nails?” You looked at her.
“He volunteered.” “I was coerced,” Seungmin said. “You said you could do it better than me.” “I can.”
You lifted your hand. He immediately lowered it again before the wet polish could run. “That remains to be seen.” Your sister tilted her head.
“I’d never ask my boyfriend to do something like that.” You glanced at Seungmin. He glanced at you. There it was again.
That tiny shared pause when both of you noticed something and decided, without speaking, whether it was worth reacting to. You smiled. “Good thing he isn’t your boyfriend, then.” Your sister’s expression tightened.
Only for a second. Then she laughed. “I only mean I’d feel bad making him do something so feminine.” Seungmin inspected your thumbnail.
“You think painting nails is feminine?” “Usually.” “Then I’m doing a very poor job of it.” You snorted.
He blew gently across your nail. Your sister watched his lips purse. “It’s sweet,” she said. “I just wouldn’t have expected it from you.” “What did you expect?” Seungmin asked.
“I don’t know.” She did know. You could tell by the way she leaned towards him. “Something more masculine, I suppose.”
Seungmin looked down at himself. He was wearing grey jogging bottoms, an old sweatshirt and your fluffy skincare headband. “I’m devastated.” “You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.” She smiled as though he were deliberately teasing her. “You seem like someone who’d usually want a very feminine girlfriend.” Seungmin’s brush paused.
You looked at your sister. She was looking at him. Not you. He lifted his eyes slowly.
“I do.” Your sister’s smile widened. Then Seungmin returned his attention to your hand. “That’s why I’m dating her.”
You pressed your lips together. Your sister glanced at you. You smiled pleasantly. Seungmin dipped the brush into the polish.
“She isn’t exactly what most people would call feminine,” your sister said. You raised your eyebrows. Seungmin’s hand stopped again. Your sister gestured towards you.
You were wearing one of Seungmin’s old shirts, a pair of shorts and fluffy socks. Your hair was twisted into a loose knot that had begun collapsing an hour ago. There was a faint smudge of clay mask beside your jaw where you had attempted to kiss Seungmin before it dried. You looked extremely comfortable. That had apparently become a flaw.
“I’m not?” you asked. “I didn’t mean it badly.” “Of course not.” “You’ve never cared about being girly.”
“I’m getting my nails painted.” “By your boyfriend.” “Yes.” “So?”
“So that feels relevant.” Your sister rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re not someone who gets dressed up around the house or worries about always looking attractive.” You looked down at yourself.
Then at Seungmin. His gaze had settled on your face. You recognised the slight narrowing of his eyes. Not anger.
Not yet. Attention. Your sister continued, “I just think it’s brave.” “Brave?” you repeated.
“To be that comfortable so early in a relationship.” You and Seungmin had been together for nearly two years. Apparently that remained early enough to maintain a constant state of glamour. “How does she normally dress at home?” Seungmin asked.
Your sister seemed pleased to have his attention again. “Like this.” “Right.” “She’s always been a little careless.”
“With clothes?” “With everything.” You laughed quietly. Your sister looked at you.
“What?” “Nothing.” Seungmin placed the nail brush carefully inside the bottle. Then he lifted your hand and examined his work.
“Perfect.” “It’s uneven.” “So are your fingers.” “My fingers aren’t uneven.”
“One’s shorter.” “They’re supposed to be different lengths.” “Convenient excuse.” He brought your hand towards his mouth.
You frowned. “What are you doing?” “Checking whether it’s dry.” “With your lips?”
“Yes.” “That makes no sense.” Seungmin pressed a delicate kiss to the side of your index finger, avoiding the wet nail. Then he kissed your knuckle.
Then your wrist. A smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself. “Dry,” he announced. “You didn’t touch the polish.”
“I’m an expert.” “You’re an idiot.” He kissed your wrist again. Your sister shifted on the sofa.
“You two are very…” She paused. “Affectionate.” “That sounded judgemental,” you said. “It wasn’t.” “It sounded a little judgemental,” Seungmin agreed.
“I only mean you don’t seem like the clingy type.” She was speaking to him again. Seungmin leaned back against your legs. “I’m not.”
You looked down at him. He looked up at you. “You’re currently using me as a chair.” “You’re comfortable.”
Seungmin smiled lazily, reaching behind himself until his hand found your knee. You threaded your fingers through his hair, careful not to disturb the headband. He immediately tilted his head into your touch. Your sister watched him do it.
Something in her expression hardened. “You always liked being fussed over,” she said to you. You looked at her. “What?”
“When we were younger. You always needed everyone’s attention.” The comment was casual. Almost playful. You knew better.
“I don’t remember that.” “You used to follow Mum around constantly.” “I was six.” “You cried whenever she left the room.”
“I was still six.” “You’ve never liked being alone.” Seungmin’s thumb stroked once over your knee. You shrugged.
“Good thing I don’t have to be.” Your sister’s eyes flicked towards his hand. “That’s what I mean. You need a lot from people.” There was a quietness beneath the words.
An implication she wanted Seungmin to catch. You were needy. Difficult. Exhausting.
The kind of girlfriend who demanded face masks and painted nails and constant affection. Your sister, naturally, would never require so much effort. Seungmin looked up at you. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” “Need a lot from me?” You pretended to consider it. “Well, you could make more tea.”
“I made the last one.” “You drank half of it.” “It became ours when you let me taste it.” “That’s not how sharing works.”
Your sister exhaled through her nose. “You make everything into a joke.” “You make everything very serious,” you replied. “I’m trying to have a conversation.”
“With my boyfriend?” “With both of you.” “You’ve mostly been looking at him.” The room went still.
Your sister blinked. Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. You hadn’t intended to say it quite so plainly. You weren’t upset.
Not yet. You were mostly curious to see what she would do when someone acknowledged the obvious. She recovered quickly. “I’m looking at whoever’s speaking.”
“He hasn’t been speaking.” “He literally just was.” You smiled. “All right.”
Your sister folded her arms. “You’re being strange again.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You implied something.”
“What did I imply?” “You know exactly what.” Seungmin’s hand slid around the back of your knee. His fingertips squeezed gently.
You looked down at him. He gave you a small, private smile. There was no concern in it. He knew you weren’t jealous.
Mostly, he appeared entertained. “You came for straighteners,” you reminded your sister. “I know.” “They’re in the bedroom.”
“Can you get them?” “You know where they are.” She hesitated. Her gaze moved towards the hallway, then back to Seungmin.
“I haven’t been in your bedroom since you moved things around.” “You’ll survive.” “I don’t want to go through your things.” “You’ve never had an issue before.”
Her mouth tightened. You smiled sweetly. “I’ll show you.” You gently extracted your hand from Seungmin’s grasp, holding your fingers carefully apart.
He immediately caught your wrist. “Where are you going?” “To get the straighteners.” “You’ll ruin your nails.”
“I’m walking, not digging a tunnel.” “You’re very clumsy.” “You painted them five minutes ago. They’re dry.” Seungmin tightened his grip.
“Wait.” “What?” He reached for the bottle of top coat on the table. “You need this.”
“You didn’t mention top coat before.” “I forgot.” “You just don’t want me to leave.” “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re holding my wrist.” “To protect my work.” “Say you’ll miss me.” “You’ll be gone for thirty seconds.”
“Then it shouldn’t be difficult.” Seungmin narrowed his eyes. Your sister watched the exchange. You waited.
He looked away first. “I’ll miss you,” he muttered. You grinned. “What was that?”
“You heard me.” “I don’t think I did.” “I’m not repeating it.” “Then I suppose I’ll have to stay.”
Seungmin looked back at you suspiciously. You lowered yourself onto the floor in front of him. His expression brightened. Then you reached for the top coat.
He held it out of reach. “You said you were staying.” “To do my own nails.” “No.”
“Give it to me.” “You’ll ruin them.” “They’re already ruined.” Seungmin gasped.
You grabbed for the bottle. He leaned away. You lunged across him, careful to keep your painted hand lifted. Seungmin caught you around the waist with his free arm.
“Behave.” “Give it.” “No.” “Seungmin.”
You tried to reach behind him. He shifted again, pulling you further into his lap. Your sister cleared her throat. You both looked towards her.
She was still sitting on the sofa. Watching. You had briefly forgotten she was there. “Sorry,” you said, although you weren’t particularly sorry.
Seungmin rested his chin on your shoulder. He still had one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Your sister’s gaze dropped to it. “Could you get the straighteners?” she asked.
“You know where they are,” you repeated. “I already told you I don’t.” Seungmin lifted his head. “I can get them.”
Your sister’s face brightened. You turned towards him. He was already beginning to stand, carefully guiding you off his lap. Your sister rose too.
Seungmin paused. He looked at her. Then at you. You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing.
There was no reason for both of them to go. Your sister apparently believed your bedroom contained an unusually complicated straightener-storage system that required Seungmin’s personal guidance. “I know where they are,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”
“You can stay here.” Her smile faltered. “I don’t mind.” “I do.”
The answer was so immediate that you made a small choking sound. Your sister’s patience finally snapped. “Can someone please get them?” You and Seungmin both looked at her.
She smiled tightly. “The straighteners.” “Right,” you said. Seungmin pointed at you.
“Don’t touch anything.” “It’s my flat.” “My nail polish.” He disappeared down the hallway.
Your sister waited until he was out of earshot. Then she looked at you. “You don’t have to perform every time I’m here.” You stared at her.
“Perform?” “The constant touching. The little jokes.” “You think that’s for you?” “I think you’re trying very hard to prove something.”
You looked towards the hallway. Seungmin was rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, apparently having forgotten that you kept the straighteners inside your wardrobe. You turned back to her. “I’m sitting in my own living room wearing his shirt while he paints my nails.”
“Exactly.” “What am I proving?” “That you’re comfortable with him.” “I am comfortable with him.”
“You don’t need to make it so obvious.” A laugh escaped you. Your sister’s expression darkened. “What?”
“I genuinely don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.” “You’re acting territorial.” “I haven’t stopped you speaking to him.” “You don’t have to. You just keep interrupting.”
“This is my flat.” “So?” “He’s my boyfriend.” “I know that.”
“Do you?” Her eyes narrowed. You smiled. Still amused.
Mostly. But something sharper had begun pressing beneath your ribs. Your sister had always competed with you. Clothes. Friends. Attention. Compliments.
Anything you possessed became evidence that she deserved something better. You had simply never expected her to become this obvious. “You’re imagining things,” she said. “Am I?”
“Yes.” “Then why did you come dressed like that to borrow straighteners?” Her face changed. Only for an instant.
Then she scoffed. “I told you I’m going out.” “Where?” “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” “You clearly do.” “You’ve travelled forty minutes to borrow something you could buy for twenty pounds.” “I was nearby.”
“No, you weren’t.” She folded her arms. “Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind me being here.” There it was.
You looked at her. She looked pleased with herself. “Why would he mind?” “He’s been friendly.”
“He’s usually friendly.” “Not with everyone.” You nearly smiled. Your sister had known Seungmin for one afternoon.
Apparently she had already developed an extensive understanding of his social habits. “He complimented me last time,” she continued. “When?” “He said my dress was nice.”
“Mum told him to.” “That doesn’t mean he didn’t think it.” “No, I’m sure he has very strong feelings about the dress.” “You don’t have to be jealous.”
You stared at her. Then you laughed. You couldn’t help it. The idea was so completely detached from reality that amusement overwhelmed everything else.
Your sister’s face hardened. “I’m serious.” “So am I.” “Then why are you laughing?”
“Because you think Seungmin complimenting your dress means I should be worried.” “I didn’t say you should be worried.” “You said I was jealous.” “You’re acting like it.”
“Trust me.” You leaned back against the sofa. “I’m not.” Your sister opened her mouth. Seungmin returned before she could answer. He was holding the straighteners in one hand
He handed the straighteners to your sister. She accepted them. “Thank you.” “No problem.”
Her fingers lingered against his for a moment. Seungmin looked down at their hands. Then politely extracted his own. “I should probably go,” your sister said.
You looked at the clock. She had been there for less than twenty minutes. “Your plans?” you asked. “Yes.”
She picked up her coat. Seungmin returned to the floor beside you, already reaching for your hand. Your sister watched him pull you down beside him. Your sister opened the front door.
“I’ll text you,” she said to you. “Okay.” She looked towards Seungmin. “It was nice seeing you.”
“You too.” “You look good, by the way.” Seungmin glanced down at his sweatshirt. “Thanks.”
“The headband especially.” His hand rose to the blue bow. “Right.” She laughed softly.
Then she left. You waited until the door closed. Silence settled over the flat. Seungmin stared at it.
You stared at him. He turned slowly. “What?” You broke first.
Laughter burst out of you so suddenly that you nearly knocked over the nail polish. Seungmin caught the bottle. “Careful!” “The headband especially,” you repeated.
“Stop.” “You look good, by the way.” “I said stop.” You twisted in his arms until you were facing him.
Seungmin was kneeling over you, one hand planted beside your shoulder and the other wrapped securely around your waist. You looked up at him. “I like your headband.” “Thank you. I already have a beautiful girlfriend.”
You nodded. “Very natural.” “You’re ridiculous.” “And you’re obsessed with me.”
“There it is.” “There what is?” “You’ve been waiting to say that all afternoon.” “I haven’t.”
“You have.” “No.” “Yes.” You tried to push him away with your forearm.
Seungmin remained exactly where he was. “Admit it,” he said. “Admit what?” “That you’re jealous.”
“I’m not.” “Just a little?” “No.” “Not even when she touched my hand?”
“I thought about breaking her fingers.” Seungmin’s eyes widened. You hooked one leg around his hips and attempted to roll him onto his back. He anticipated it, shifting his weight before you could gain any leverage.
“You’re cheating,” you complained. “How?” “You’re stronger.” “That isn’t cheating.”
“It is when I’m losing.” He laughed. You used the distraction to push at his shoulder again. Seungmin caught both your wrists.
Your breath hitched, more from surprise than anything else. He pinned them lightly above your head, careful not to let your nails touch the carpet. His hair had begun slipping free from the headband. The clay mask had cracked faintly near the corners of his smile.
He looked completely ridiculous. And unfairly lovely. “Still think I enjoyed it?” he asked. You pretended to consider your answer.
His eyes narrowed. “Choose carefully.” You bit back a smile. “She is very feminine.”
Seungmin lowered his face closer to yours. “Wrong direction.” “And confident.” His grip tightened slightly around your wrists.
You laughed. “And sophisticated.” “Do you want to keep your newly painted nails?” “That sounds like a threat.”
“It is.” “You worked so hard on them.” “I can start again.” “You wouldn’t.”
“I have nowhere to be.” You squirmed beneath him. He shifted, trapping you more securely without putting his weight on you. “You’re impossible,” you said.
“You started this.” “She’s your type.” Seungmin stared at you. Then he released one of your wrists.
You immediately tried to escape. His free hand found your side. You squealed. “No!”
“Take it back.” “You can’t keep doing this!” “I can until you learn.” His fingers dug gently into your waist.
You dissolved into laughter, twisting helplessly beneath him. “The mask!” you gasped. “You’ll crack the mask!” “I don’t care.” “You were worried about it two minutes ago!”
“You’ve pushed me too far.” You kicked at the rug. Seungmin caught your leg beneath his knee. “You’re evil!”
“And?” “Controlling!” “And?” “Obsessed with me!”
His fingers stopped. “There we go.” You glared up at him, breathless. “That isn’t fair.”
“It’s completely fair.” “I was supposed to say you don’t want her.” “I know I don’t want her.” “You’re supposed to reassure me.”
“Are you worried?” “No.” “Then why do you need reassurance?” “Because I enjoy compliments.”
Seungmin smiled. The teasing faded gently from his expression. He released your other wrist and settled his hand beside your head instead. “You’re very pretty.”
“That was basic.” “You’re especially pretty when you’re wearing my clothes.” “Better.” “You’re funny.”
“I know.” “And irritating.” “That wasn’t a compliment.” “It’s one of my favourite things about you.”
You looked up at him. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek. “You’re my favourite person to come home to,” he continued. “My favourite person to annoy. My favourite person to do absolutely nothing with.” Your smile softened.
Seungmin’s did too. “And,” he added, “I’m so obsessed with you that I let you put this stupid thing on my head.” You touched the bow. “You love the headband.”
“I tolerate it.” “You’re avoiding the important part.” “What important part?” “The part where you admit I’m obsessed with you.”
You laughed. “You just admitted it yourself.” “I want to hear you say it.” “You’re obsessed with me.”
“And?” You stared at him. He waited expectantly. “And you don’t want my sister.”
“Obviously.” “And?” A slow grin spread across his face. You realised what he wanted.
“No.” “Say it.” “I’m not saying it.” “You know you want to.”
“I don’t.” Seungmin’s fingers hovered threateningly near your waist. You recoiled. “Don’t.”
“Then say it.” “You’re abusing your power.” “I’m waiting.” You glared at him.
He looked delighted. “And I’m obsessed with you too,” you muttered. “What was that?” “You heard me.”
“The face mask is restricting my hearing.” “That isn’t how masks work.” “Speak clearly.” You tried not to smile.
“I’m obsessed with you too.” “There we go.” He bent and kissed you. It began soft.
A pleased little press of his lips against yours. Then you reached for the back of his neck and accidentally brushed one wet nail against his cheek. Seungmin pulled away. You froze.
A bright streak of polish now cut through the dried clay mask. For one second, neither of you moved. Then you burst out laughing. Seungmin stared at you.
“You ruined it.” “I’m sorry!” “You did that on purpose.” “I didn’t!”
“You attacked me.” “You were on top of me!” “Because you accused me of wanting your sister.” Seungmin touched his cheek.
His fingers came away with polish on them. His mouth dropped open. You laughed even harder. “You look beautiful.”
“You’re sleeping on the sofa.” “It’s my flat.” “Then I’m sleeping in your bed alone.” “You wouldn’t last ten minutes.”
“I’d sleep perfectly.” You grinned. Seungmin tried to maintain his glare. He failed.
A laugh escaped him. Then another. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against your shoulder, both of you shaking with laughter on the living-room floor. You wrapped your arms around him.
“Your mask really is ruined.” “I know.” “And the polish is definitely smudged.” “I know.”
౨ৎ
Your sister invited herself shopping with you three days later. Technically, she asked whether you had bought your mum’s birthday present yet. When you told her that you and Seungmin were going into town on Sunday to find something, she replied that she had been planning to go that day too. You had stared at the message for several seconds. Seungmin, lying beside you with his head on your stomach, had tilted his phone away from his face and asked, “Why are you making that expression?”
“My sister wants to come shopping with us.” He had gone silent. You lowered your phone to look at him. “That was a very long pause.” “I was trying to think of something polite.”
“And?” “I couldn’t.” You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “We are shopping for her mum too.” “Unfortunately.”
“She’s my mum.” “That’s why I said unfortunately. I like your mum.” “You’re horrible.” Seungmin had turned his head and pressed a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “Tell her she can come.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” “I’m thrilled. Maybe she can tell me more about what kind of woman I usually prefer.” You had flicked his forehead. He had bitten your finger.
The matter was settled.
౨ৎ
Your sister arrived twenty minutes late. You and Seungmin had already been standing outside the shopping centre long enough for him to complain about the cold four times, steal one of your gloves and attempt to warm his other hand by shoving it beneath the back of your jumper. You had slapped him away. He had waited thirty seconds before trying again.
“Your hand is freezing,” you complained, twisting out of his reach. “That’s why I need your body heat.” “You have pockets.” “They’re not as warm as you.”
“They don’t want you touching them either.” Seungmin smiled and caught the belt loop of your jeans when you tried to step away. “Come back.” “No.” “You’re abandoning me.”
“I’m moving half a metre.” “That’s still too far.” You rolled your eyes, but you let him pull you backwards until your shoulder rested against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and tucked his chin over your shoulder, immediately pleased with himself. “You’re very clingy today,” you said.
“It’s cold.” “You were clingy yesterday too.” “I was tired.” “You fell asleep on top of me. I couldn’t breathe.”
“And yet you let me stay.” His laugh warmed the side of your neck. Your sister found you like that. She slowed as she approached, taking in Seungmin’s arms around your middle and the way your hands rested over his. Then she smiled.
“Sorry,” she said, although she did not sound particularly sorry. “The train was delayed.” “You said you were driving,” you replied. She paused. Seungmin’s face disappeared briefly against your shoulder. You felt the silent shake of his laughter.
“I changed my mind,” your sister said. “Clearly.” She looked at Seungmin. “Have you been waiting long?” “Long enough for her to attack me.”
“I moved your freezing hand away,” you said. Seungmin tightened his arms around your waist. “Exactly.” Your sister laughed, her gaze lingering on him a little too long. “You poor thing.” Your sister looked at you with a small, knowing smile. “You’ve always been like that.”
“Like what?” “Rough.” Seungmin’s eyebrows rose. You looked down at your outfit as though you might find evidence of roughness on your coat. “I pushed his hand away.”
“I’m only joking.” “Right.” “She’s very frightening,” Seungmin said solemnly. “I live in constant fear.” Then he kissed your cheek and released you, taking your hand instead. “Can we go inside before I lose feeling in my fingers?”
“You stole my glove.” “It wasn’t enough.” Your sister walked beside him as you entered the shopping centre. You ended up on his other side.
It was not immediately strange. The pavement narrowed near the doors, people moved around you, and your sister had always been skilled at placing herself exactly where she wanted to be without appearing deliberate. But once you were inside, she remained there. She asked Seungmin what he thought you should buy. She asked whether he enjoyed shopping. She asked which shops he liked, whether he cared about clothes and whether he usually chose his own outfits. He answered politely.
Mostly. When she asked whether he had a favourite designer, he said, “Whoever makes comfortable trousers.” When she asked what colours he liked on women, he said, “Normal ones.” Your sister frowned. “I was asking a normal question.”
“I know,” you said. “His answer was stupid.” Seungmin swung your joined hands between you. Your sister glanced down. “I think you’d suit darker colours,” she told him.
“I wear dark colours.” “I know. They make you look more mature.” You looked across him. “What does he look like now?” She ignored you. “You have a very classic face.”
Seungmin turned towards you. “Do I?” “No.” He looked offended. “You didn’t even think about it.” “I look at your face every day.”
“And you’ve never thought it was classic?” “I’ve thought it was annoying.” “That isn’t a facial structure.” “It should be.”
Your sister sighed softly. “You never take compliments seriously.” “She rarely gives them,” Seungmin said. “I complimented you this morning.” “You said my hair looked less strange than usual.”
“That was generous.” “You also said I looked tired.” “You did.” “You make me feel very cherished.”
You stopped in the middle of the walkway and placed both hands around his face. “You are beautiful.” Seungmin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re mocking me.” “Never.” “You’re smiling.”
“Because you’re beautiful.” He stared at you for another second before his mouth betrayed him. A reluctant smile appeared. “There,” you said, squeezing his cheeks. “Pretty.”
Seungmin caught both your wrists and pulled your hands away. “Don’t touch my face in public.” “You love it.” Your sister had gone quiet. You released Seungmin’s face and started walking again. He slipped his hand into yours as though the interruption had never happened.
The first shop was useless. The second was worse. Your mum had said she wanted something for the house, which sounded simple until you were faced with fifteen aisles of objects she might already own. Your sister suggested a decorative vase.
You reminded her that your mum had six. Seungmin picked up a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown. You told him to put it down. “She’d love him,” he said.
“She’d ask why we bought her rubbish.” “He’s cute.” “He’s ugly.” “He can hear you.”
Your sister smiled at Seungmin. “I think he’s cute.” You looked at her. She was not looking at the ceramic dog. Seungmin, apparently unaware or pretending to be, placed the ornament carefully in your hands. “Hold him.”
“No.” “He likes you.” “You like him.” “He reminds me of you.”
You stared at the dog. The dog stared back with badly painted eyes. “You’re sleeping alone tonight.” Seungmin smiled. “You say that every week.”
“One day I’ll mean it.” “No, you won’t.” Your sister picked up a sleek glass vase and held it towards Seungmin. “What about this?” He glanced at it. “It’s nice.”
“She already has something similar,” you said. Your sister’s smile tightened. “Not exactly like this.” “It’s almost identical.” “It’s more modern.”
“Mum doesn’t care about modern.” “She might.” Your sister looked at Seungmin. “What do you think?” He looked between you both.
Then at the vase. Then at the ceramic dog still in your hands. “I think we should buy the dog.” You laughed.
Your sister did not. “You’re both impossible,” she said, returning the vase to the shelf. “That keeps coming up,” Seungmin replied. You carried the dog for another two aisles before secretly placing it on a display of cushions.
Seungmin noticed immediately. “Where is he?” “Who?” “The dog.”
“I don’t know.” “You abandoned him.” “He wasn’t ours.” “He could have been.”
“Not everything you like has to come home with us.” “You came home with me.” Your sister laughed. You turned towards Seungmin slowly. “Was that meant to be sweet?”
“Yes.” “It sounded like you found me beside a road.” “I rescued you.” “From what?”
“Yourself.” You shoved him lightly towards a stack of towels. He caught your elbow and pulled you with him, making you stumble against his chest. His free arm wrapped around your waist before you could fall. You tried not to smile.
You failed. Your sister walked ahead.
౨ৎ
After nearly an hour, you found a set of handmade serving bowls that your mum would genuinely like. Your sister thought they were plain. Seungmin thought one of them looked like a hat. You thought both of them needed to stop talking.
You were waiting at the till when your sister announced that she wanted coffee. “There’s a place downstairs,” she said. “I’ll go.” “I’ll come,” you replied. “I need the toilet anyway.” Her expression flickered.
Only slightly. Then she smiled. “You can stay with the bags. Seungmin and I can get them.” Seungmin looked up from the receipt in his hand. You looked at her.
She looked at him. There was a small silence. Then Seungmin said, “She knows my order.” Your sister recovered quickly. “You can tell me.”
“I’ll forget something.” “It’s coffee.” “He’s very demanding,” you said. Seungmin nodded.
Your sister laughed, although her eyes stayed on him. “I think I can manage.” You could have refused. Part of you wanted to, not because you thought anything would happen, but because your sister’s intentions had become so transparent that allowing her to proceed felt almost embarrassing. Then curiosity won.
You handed the shopping bag to Seungmin. “Fine. Get me something sweet.” “What?” “Surprise me.” “That always ends badly.”
“Only because you make poor choices.” Seungmin stared at you. You smiled. He sighed. “Fine.”
Your sister looked pleased. Far too pleased. You kissed Seungmin’s cheek before stepping away. “Don’t let her buy me anything with coconut.”
౨ৎ
Seungmin watched you disappear into the crowd. He knew exactly what you were doing. You had kissed him in front of your sister on purpose. Not because you were worried.
Because you were a menace. A message appeared on his phone before he and your sister had reached the escalator. Don’t fall in love while I’m gone x He smiled despite himself.
Your sister noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Was that her?”
“Yes.” “What did she say?” Seungmin put his phone away. “Nothing important.” Your sister stepped onto the escalator beside him.
For several seconds, she was silent. Then she said, “She checks on you a lot.” Seungmin looked at her. “Does she?” “She’s always texting you.”
“We text each other.” “I know. I just mean she likes knowing where you are.” He considered the comment. “She sent me a joke.”
“What joke?” “One you wouldn’t find funny.” Your sister’s mouth tightened. “You don’t know that.” “I know her sense of humour.”
“And mine?” “Not really.” The escalator carried them down another floor. Your sister rested one hand on the rail. “You and her are very different.”
Seungmin looked ahead. “You’ve mentioned that.” “I don’t mean it as an insult.” “You keep saying that too.” She laughed softly. “You remember.”
“I have a good memory.” “You do seem observant.” “Sometimes.” “That’s why I’m surprised.”
He turned his head. “By what?” She looked briefly uncertain, as if she had expected him to understand without making her say it aloud. “Nothing.”
Seungmin faced forwards again. The coffee shop was busy. A line curled away from the counter, giving your sister more time than she probably needed. She moved closer to him as they joined it. “I’ve always wondered how she ended up with someone like you.”
Seungmin’s expression did not change. “Someone like me?” “Successful. Disciplined. Mature.” “You think she isn’t those things?”
“I didn’t say that.” “You implied it.” Your sister sighed. “You’re very defensive of her.” “She’s my girlfriend.”
“I know.” “Then why are you surprised?” “I’m not surprised. I just think you misunderstand me.” Seungmin shoved one hand into his coat pocket. “Then explain.”
Your sister glanced towards the counter. The line had barely moved. “She’s always been the sweet one,” she said. “The one people feel protective over. I’ve always been more independent.” “Okay.” “She needs more reassurance.”
“Does she?” “You’ve seen how she is.” “I have.” “And that doesn’t get tiring?”
Seungmin looked at her properly. His tone stayed light, but his eyes sharpened. “No.” Your sister held his gaze. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” “I’m not.”
“She can be a lot.” “So can I.” “You’re different.” “You don’t know me.”
The words landed more firmly than anything he had said before. Your sister blinked. Seungmin looked back towards the counter. The line moved forward.
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then she tried again. “She doesn’t tell people this, but she used to get overlooked a lot when we were younger.” Seungmin’s jaw tightened.
“Overlooked by who?” “People.” Your sister exhaled, clearly frustrated by his refusal to fill in the gaps for her. “Boys usually noticed me first.”
Seungmin waited. She smiled faintly. “She never minded. At least, she pretended not to.” He looked at her. “And?”
“And nothing. I’m only saying it’s probably nice for her to be the one someone chose for once.” Seungmin stared at her for a long moment. Your sister interpreted the silence as an opening. “You’re kind,” she continued. “You probably don’t even realise how much that means to her.”
“I noticed her.” The sentence was quiet. Immediate. Your sister’s smile faltered.
“I didn’t say you didn’t.” “You said people didn’t.” “I said they usually noticed me first.” “I didn’t.”
Something sharp passed across her face. Then she laughed. “You hadn’t met me.” Seungmin looked at her.
The confidence in her smile returned. It was not difficult to understand what she meant. If he had seen her first, things might have been different. If he knew her better, he might recognise what he had missed.
If you had not reached him before she did, perhaps he would have made the correct choice. Seungmin almost laughed. Instead, he said, “I’ve met you now.” Your sister’s smile remained fixed.
The line moved again. She stepped closer. “I think we have more in common than you realise.” “Do we?”
“We’re both ambitious.” “So is she.” “We care about how we present ourselves.” “She does too.”
“She doesn’t care what anyone thinks.” “That’s one of the things I like about her.” Your sister’s eyes narrowed. “You turn everything into a compliment about her.” “Yes.”
The answer was so simple that it left nowhere for the conversation to go. Your sister looked away. Seungmin’s phone buzzed again. He checked it.
Is she seducing you yet? A second message appeared. Blink twice if you need rescue Then:
Actually don’t. I can’t see you He laughed under his breath. Your sister glanced towards the phone. “She’s checking again?”
“She’s entertaining herself.” “She doesn’t trust me.” Seungmin looked up. “Should she?” Your sister went still.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. For the first time, she seemed uncertain whether he was joking. Then he smiled. Not warmly.
Not cruelly either. Just enough to make the question impossible to challenge. Your sister looked towards the menu. “What did she want?”
“Something sweet.” “That isn’t very specific.” “She likes trying new things.” “I know.”
“Do you?” Your sister frowned. “She’s my sister.” Seungmin slipped his phone into his pocket. “Then choose.” She looked at the display board.
After a moment, she suggested a coconut latte. Seungmin stared at her. “What?” “She hates coconut.”
Your sister hesitated. “Does she?” “She told you five minutes ago.” “I forgot.” “I didn’t.”
He ordered your favourite instead.
౨ৎ
You returned to find them sitting at a small table near the window. Your sister was speaking. Seungmin was looking at his phone. That alone told you almost everything you needed to know.
He was never rude enough to ignore someone without a reason. When he spotted you, his entire expression changed. His shoulders relaxed. His mouth curved into a smile. He put his phone down and lifted one hand towards you. “There you are.”
You slid into the seat beside him. Seungmin immediately hooked his fingers through the belt loop at the back of your jeans and tugged you closer. “I was gone for fifteen minutes.” “It was difficult.”
“You seemed fine.” Your sister looked between you. You picked up the drink in front of your seat and inspected it. “What did you get me?” “Try it.”
“What is it?” “I’m not telling you.” “Why?” “You said to surprise you.”
“I don’t trust you.” Seungmin pushed the cup closer. “Drink.” You took a cautious sip. It was sweet, creamy and familiar.
Your favourite. You looked at him. He smiled smugly. “You didn’t choose something new.”
“I chose something you’d like.” “That isn’t a surprise.” “You were surprised.” “I was surprised you made a good decision.”
Seungmin leaned towards you. “Say thank you.” “No.” “Say it.” “You’re very demanding.”
“I carried the bowls.” “They’re in one bag.” “A heavy bag.” “They’re ceramic, not concrete.”
Your sister interrupted. “He remembered your order.” You looked at her. There was something brittle in her voice. Seungmin rested his chin briefly on your shoulder and stole a sip of your drink.
You pushed his face away. “Of course he did,” you said. “He orders it more than I do.” “For you,” he corrected. “You steal half.”
“It tastes better when it’s yours.” “That’s because you’re a thief.” He smiled against your cheek. Your sister looked away.
You could practically feel the conversation you had interrupted sitting between them. You waited until Seungmin sat back. Then you asked, “Did you have a nice chat?” Your sister reached for her coffee.
Seungmin looked at you. His eyes were bright with the effort of not laughing. “Very informative.” “Oh?”
“I learned that I’m successful, disciplined and mature.” You nodded solemnly. “One out of three isn’t bad.” Seungmin kicked your foot beneath the table. You kicked him back.
Your sister sighed. “I was complimenting him.” “I know.” “She thinks I’m mature,” Seungmin said. “She doesn’t live with you.”
“I don’t live with you.” Under the table, Seungmin’s knee pressed against yours. You tapped it once with your own. He tapped back.
Your sister watched the movement. “I was only saying that you’re lucky,” she said. You looked at her. “Again?” “You are.”
“I know.” “She thinks you’re lucky someone finally noticed you,” Seungmin added. The words were delivered with deceptive casualness. Your sister’s head snapped towards him.
Your hand stilled around the cup. Seungmin lifted his drink. You looked at your sister. She looked suddenly furious.
“I didn’t say it like that.” “How did you say it?” “I said people usually noticed me first when we were younger.” You raised your eyebrows.
Your sister leaned back. “It was relevant to the conversation.” “What conversation?” “We were talking about relationships.” “You were talking about mine?”
“She asked whether dating you was tiring,” Seungmin said. You stared at him. He took a calm sip. Your sister’s face reddened. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“It was very close.” “You’re twisting my words.” “I remember them quite clearly.” You looked between them.
The ridiculousness of it arrived before the hurt could. Your sister had finally managed to get Seungmin alone, and she had apparently used the opportunity to explain why being with you must be exhausting. A laugh slipped out. Your sister’s mouth tightened. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because you had fifteen minutes.” “What?” “You finally got him alone and that was your strategy?” Seungmin choked on his drink.
Your sister stared at you. You turned towards him. “Are you all right?” He held up one hand and coughed into the other. “You’re horrible,” he managed.
“You were thinking it too.” “I was trying to be polite.” Your sister placed her cup on the table more firmly than necessary. “Nothing happened.” You looked at her. “I know.”
“Then stop acting like you caught me doing something.” “I didn’t catch you. He told me.” Your sister stood. The legs of her chair scraped against the floor.
“I’m going to look at another shop.” You glanced at the untouched coffee. “We just sat down.” “I remembered something I need.” She grabbed her handbag.
Seungmin watched her. Your sister looked at him, waiting for something. An offer to come with her, perhaps. An apology.
A private look that confirmed all the things she had decided existed between them. Seungmin lifted his hand. For one hopeful second, she smiled. Then he pointed towards her cup. “Are you taking that?”
Her smile disappeared. “No.” “Can I have it?” You elbowed him.
“What?” he asked. “She isn’t drinking it.” Your sister walked away without answering. You watched her disappear into the crowd. Then you turned slowly towards Seungmin.
He was already reaching for her abandoned coffee. You slapped his hand. “No.” “She said she didn’t want it.”
“You don’t know what’s in it.” “Coffee.” “She might have poisoned it.” “Why would she poison her own drink?”
“She sensed rejection.” Seungmin laughed. You folded your arms. “What did she actually say?” He gave up on the coffee and leaned back in his chair.
“Exactly what I told you.” “She asked whether I was tiring?” “She implied that you need constant reassurance, said you’re a lot and suggested I probably chose you because I’m kind.” Your amusement faded a little.
Seungmin noticed immediately. His foot slid beside yours under the table. “She also told me men usually noticed her first,” he added. You looked at the crowd beyond the window. “She loves saying that.”
“I asked which men.” That made you smile. Seungmin’s knee pressed more firmly against yours. “She couldn’t name them.”
“You interrogated her?” “I asked good questions.” “You never ask good questions.” “That’s unfair.”
You looked back at him. He was watching you closely. Not pushing. Just waiting.
“What else?” you asked. Seungmin hesitated. “She implied I might have chosen differently if I’d met her first.” A strange little ache settled beneath your ribs. Not because you believed it.
The idea of Seungmin choosing your sister felt almost comical. But because she believed your entire relationship could be reduced to timing. That you had simply arrived first and seized something that should have belonged to her. You looked down at your cup. “And what did you say?”
“That I’ve met her now.” Your mouth twitched. “That’s all?” “I thought it was enough.”
“It is.” “She didn’t like it.” “I’m devastated for her.” “I also told her I noticed you.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around the cup. Seungmin’s expression softened. “What?” “Nothing.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I noticed you.” You fought a smile. You covered his mouth with your hand. Seungmin kissed your palm.
You pulled it away immediately. “That’s disgusting.” “You liked that too.” “You’re so pleased with yourself.”
“I handled a difficult social situation and bought you the correct drink.” “You want a medal?” “A kiss would be appropriate.” “You’re asking for payment?”
“I did hard labour.” “You stood in a coffee queue.” “With your sister.” You considered that.
Seungmin lifted his eyebrows. You leaned over and kissed his cheek. He turned his head at the last second, catching the corner of your mouth instead. You pulled back.
“That was cheating.” “You’re slow.” “You tricked me.” “You still kissed me.”
“Barely.” “You can try again.” “I’m not rewarding bad behaviour.” Seungmin rested one elbow on the table. “Then I’ll have to live with the memory.”
“You’re dramatic.” “I suffered for fifteen minutes.” “You were texting me.” “That was my lifeline.”
You laughed and nudged his foot beneath the table. Seungmin caught your ankle between his. “You know she’s going to tell herself you only rejected her because you knew I was coming back.” Seungmin’s expression became thoughtful. “Do you want me to say it more directly?”
You looked towards the direction your sister had disappeared. Part of you wanted him to. Part of you knew she would turn even that into evidence of something else. “She hasn’t actually admitted she wants you,” you said.
“She invited herself on our date.” “We’re buying Mum bowls.” “A highly romantic date.” Seungmin reached for your hand across the table.
His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles. “If she says something properly,” he said, “I’ll answer properly.” “You have answered.” “I mean without being polite.”
“That sounds frightening.” Seungmin squeezed your hand. “Tell her that when she tries again.” You looked at him. “When?”
He smiled. “You think she’s stopping?” You glanced once more towards the crowd. “No.”
“Neither do I.” There was a pause. Then Seungmin brightened. “Can we go back for the dog?” “No.”
“He could be part of your mum’s present.” “She would hate him.” “She’d learn to love him.” “You only knew him for ten minutes.”
“That was enough.” Seungmin smiled and lifted your hand to his mouth. This time, he kissed your knuckles slowly. You let him.
Your sister returned ten minutes later carrying nothing. Neither of you mentioned it. Seungmin did, however, remain close to you for the rest of the afternoon. His hand at your waist when people passed too close. His fingers laced through yours on the escalator. His chin briefly resting on your shoulder while you examined candles. His mouth near your ear when he whispered that one of them smelled like “an expensive wardrobe”.
Your sister tried to walk beside him. Seungmin kept drifting back towards you. She asked his opinion. He asked yours.
She suggested shops. He followed wherever you went. By the time you left the shopping centre, your sister had stopped speaking unless someone addressed her directly. The three of you stood near the station while she checked the time.
“My train’s in five minutes,” she said. Your sister adjusted her handbag and looked at Seungmin. “It was nice spending time with you.” “You too.” “We should do it again.”
You looked at him. He looked at you. Your sister noticed. “Without making it into a whole family thing,” she added.
You raised your eyebrows. Seungmin slipped his arm around your shoulders. “I think she comes with me.” Your sister laughed. “You’re allowed separate friends.” “I have friends.”
“She means her,” you said. “I know.” Your sister’s cheeks coloured. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” Seungmin asked. She looked at him. He waited. His expression was pleasant.
Curious. Entirely unwilling to rescue her. Your sister’s train arrived with a rush of noise behind her. She glanced towards the platform.
“I have to go.” “You should hurry,” you said. She hugged you briefly. When she turned towards Seungmin, he lifted the shopping bag between them.
Your sister stopped. He smiled politely. “Bye.” For a moment, she looked as though she might push around the bag and hug him anyway.
Then she stepped back. “Bye.” You watched her hurry towards the train. As soon as she was out of earshot, Seungmin lowered the bag.
“You used Mum’s bowls as a shield,” you said. “I panicked.” “You’re very brave.” “She hugged me last time.”
“Terrifying.” “I didn’t know what else to do.” “You could have hugged her.” Seungmin looked horrified. “Why would I do that?”
“She’s confident and sophisticated.” “Stop.” “More your type.” He pointed at you. “We discussed this.”
“She only needs an opportunity.” “You’re becoming annoying.” “Becoming?” “More annoying.”
You smiled. Seungmin stared at you for a second. Then he hooked one arm around your waist and lifted you just enough that your shoes left the ground. You yelped.
“Put me down!” “Take it back.” “We’re in public!” “I don’t care.”
You grabbed his shoulders, laughing as he carried you several steps away from the platform. Seungmin lowered you carefully to the ground. His smile softened. Seungmin took your hand again, swinging it once between you before pulling you towards the station exit.
“Come on,” he said. “We have to go back.” “For what?” “The dog.” “We are not buying the dog.”
“He’s waiting for us.” “He’s ceramic.” “He’ll think we abandoned him.” “You said I was the abandoned animal.”
“I can rescue both of you.” “You already complain that I take up too much space.” “He’s small.” “I hate you.”
Seungmin kissed the side of your head. He smiled and kept walking. You followed, because the station exit was in the same direction as the shop. Not because you had agreed to buy the dog.
Definitely not. When your mum opened her birthday present a week later, she found a beautiful set of handmade serving bowls. And, tucked between them, a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown. She stared at it.
You stared at Seungmin. Seungmin looked unbearably pleased.
౨ৎ
By the time you finished getting ready, Seungmin had changed his shirt twice, complained about both options and somehow blamed you for the fact that neither looked right. “You said the black one was nice,” he reminded you from the bedroom doorway. “It was nice.” “And then you told me to wear the blue one.”
“Because the blue one is nicer.” “So the black one was ugly.” “That isn’t what I said.” “It’s what you implied.”
You turned away from the mirror and looked at him. He stood with both shirts hanging from one hand, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and an expression of genuine betrayal on his face. “You’re having a crisis over two nearly identical shirts.” “They aren’t nearly identical.” “One is black and one is very dark blue.”
“Exactly.” You stared at him. Seungmin stared back. Then his gaze drifted slowly down your body.
The offence disappeared from his expression. You had chosen an outfit that made you feel good. You suspected you would regret that decision later, but Seungmin’s reaction made it worth it. He looked at you for long enough that you lifted an eyebrow. “What?” “Nothing.”
You tried not to smile. “Have you not seen me before?” “Not in that.” “You watched me put it on.” “I was distracted.”
“By what?” “The shirt crisis.” You laughed and turned back towards the mirror. Seungmin abandoned both shirts on the bed and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You look pretty,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Only pretty?” His eyes narrowed at your reflection. “Don’t become demanding.” “You stared at me for thirty seconds. I expected something better.” “You look very pretty.”
“That’s the same thing with an extra word.” “You look so pretty that I’m reconsidering letting you leave the flat.” You smiled. “Better.” “I knew you were fishing.”
“I enjoy compliments.” “I know.” Seungmin kissed the side of your neck, then another spot slightly lower. You tilted your head instinctively before remembering you had spent far too long getting ready. “Don’t ruin my makeup.”
“I’m nowhere near your makeup.” “You’ll work your way up.” “That sounds like encouragement.” You caught his wrists and pulled his arms away. Seungmin resisted just enough to make it difficult, then released you with an exaggerated sigh.
“You don’t love me anymore.” “I’m trying to get us to the party.” “Chan said eight.” “It’s quarter past.”
“Exactly. We’re early.” You looked at him through the mirror. “For what?” “A party.” “That started fifteen minutes ago.”
“Social events have a grace period.” “You invented that because you’re never ready on time.” “I was ready.” “You aren’t wearing a shirt.”
Seungmin looked down at his bare chest, then at the two shirts abandoned on the bed. Your phone buzzed on the dressing table. You picked it up. Your sister had messaged.
Are you there yet? A second message followed before you could reply. Is Seungmin going straight from yours? You turned the screen towards him.
Seungmin read both messages. His face remained blank for one beat, then he placed his chin back on your shoulder. “She misses me.” “She saw you last week.” “A long separation.”
“She didn’t ask whether I was going straight from mine.” “She knows you’ll be there.” “She also knows you’ll be there.” “That must be why she asked to come.”
You laughed and nudged him backwards with your hip. “Put the blue shirt on.” “The black one makes my shoulders look better.” “Then wear the black one.” “You said the blue was nicer.”
“Seungmin.” He smiled and kissed your cheek before finally retrieving the blue shirt. You replied to your sister while he dressed. We’re leaving soon. Bring the drinks you promised Chan.
Her response came almost immediately. What’s Seungmin wearing? You looked up. He was buttoning the blue shirt.
You considered sending her a photograph of the black one lying empty on the bed. Instead, you typed: Clothes x Seungmin glanced over. “What did you say?”
“Nothing important.” “You’re smiling.” “I’m entertaining myself.” “Is she seducing me remotely now?”
“Apparently she needs to prepare.” “For what?” “To be more your type.” Seungmin finished the final button and walked towards you. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“It’s funny.” “Until she touches my arm fifteen times.” “Maybe she thinks that’s where your romantic feelings are stored.” “That would explain why I keep trying to get away.”
You laughed, and Seungmin’s smile softened. He reached out to fix the chain of your necklace where it had twisted, his fingers careful against the back of your neck. “Tell me if it stops being funny,” he said. The words were quiet enough to change the air between you. You turned.
Seungmin let his hands settle at your waist. “I will.” “Promise?” “You already made me promise.”
“I’m making you do it again.” “Very controlling.” “Very caring.” “Debatable.”
He squeezed your waist. “Promise.” You rested both hands against his chest. “I promise.” Satisfied, Seungmin kissed your forehead. Then he leant back and examined his shirt in the mirror. “Do my shoulders look strange?”
You pushed him towards the door.
౨ৎ
The party remained civilised for approximately forty minutes. Then Changbin brought out the shot glasses. Chan saw them from across the room and immediately shook his head. “Take it easy” “You bought the alcohol,” Changbin reminded him.
Jisung appeared beside the kitchen counter as though summoned by the word drinking. “Shots are normal.” “You said that last time and threw up in my shoes.” “That was unrelated.” “It was directly related.”
Felix slid into the space beside Jisung and began examining the bottles. You followed closely behind him, your own drink already mostly gone. Seungmin caught your wrist before you could reach for anything. “You’re not doing shots.” You looked at his hand around your wrist, then at him. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve already had three drinks.” “So have you.” “I can still walk in a straight line.” “I can walk in a straight line.”
Seungmin released you and pointed towards the hallway. You stared at him. He lifted his eyebrows. “You want me to demonstrate?”
“Yes.” You placed your empty glass on the counter and turned towards the hallway with as much dignity as you could manage. Felix and Jisung watched in complete silence. You took three perfectly respectable steps.
Then your hip struck the edge of the sofa. You stopped. Seungmin smiled. “The sofa moved.”
“It’s been there all night.” “It knew I was trying to prove something.” Jisung nodded seriously. “Furniture can sense weakness.” Minho, sitting nearby with his ankle resting over one knee, looked at him. “That explains why you keep walking into doors.”
Jisung placed a hand over his chest. “Why are you attacking me?” “Because you make it easy.” Jisung abandoned the counter and dropped onto the sofa beside him. Within seconds, his legs were stretched across Minho’s lap. Minho glanced down but made no effort to move them.
You pointed towards them. “He can’t walk straight either.” “He’s sitting,” Seungmin said. “He was walking badly earlier.” Changbin began pouring.
Hyunjin took the bottle from Changbin before he could overfill the glasses. “At least make them even. You’re pouring like you’ve never seen liquid before.” “I’m being generous.” “You’re trying to kill Jisung.” Jisung lifted his head from Minho’s shoulder. “Yes please.”
Minho pressed one hand against his forehead and pushed him back down. “You accept nothing.” You managed to claim a glass before Seungmin could stop you. Felix took one. Jisung reached for another, but Minho lifted it out of reach.
Jisung stared at him. “Give it.” “No.” “You aren’t my father.” “Thank fuck for that.”
“You can’t control me.” Minho looked at the legs still resting across his lap. “Stand up, then.” Jisung considered it. “No.”
“Thought so.” Felix passed Jisung his own glass beneath the edge of the table. Minho saw. He allowed it.
You caught his eye. Minho shrugged and took another drink. “Traitor,” Seungmin told him. “I’m off duty.”
“You were never on duty,” Chan said. “Exactly.” Changbin raised his glass. “To Chan finally letting us have fun.” “This is my party.”
“Then act like it.” Chan swore at him, but lifted his drink anyway. Everyone crowded closer. Your friend remained beside your sister near the end of the counter, amused but still slightly removed from the intimacy of the group. You caught her eye and held up your glass.
She lifted hers back. Your sister barely noticed. She was watching Seungmin. He stood behind you with one hand resting against your hip, his thumb moving absently beneath the hem of your top.
You leaned back into him. “To being hot,” Hyunjin said. Jeongin nodded. “Finally, something relevant.” Chan looked around the group. “Can we toast to something normal?”
“No,” everyone replied. The shot burned on the way down. Felix coughed. You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed the first solid thing you found.
It was Changbin’s arm. “Fuck.” Changbin laughed. “You agreed to it.” “That tasted like paint stripper.”
“You’ve never tasted paint stripper.” “Maybe I have.” Seungmin pulled you backwards against his chest. “And this is why you weren’t doing shots.” You turned in his arms. “I did one.”
“You nearly died.” “I recovered.” “You’re still holding Changbin.You could have held me.” You looked down to find your hand still wrapped around Changbin’s bicep and slowly released him. “Come back when you’ve got biceps, bud.”
Seungmin stared at you for a beat before catching you around the waist and pulling you firmly against his chest. “You seemed perfectly happy with mine earlier.” You placed a hand against his arm as though inspecting it. “They’re all right.” His grip tightened. “All right?” You smiled. “Maybe a little better than that.”
౨ৎ
Someone suggested a drinking game. Nobody later remembered who. You all ended up sitting in a loose circle around the living room with bottles, half-empty glasses and bowls of food scattered between you. Your friend sat beside your sister on the sofa. You were on the floor between Felix and Seungmin, with your back against Seungmin’s legs. His hand rested loosely at the base of your throat, occasionally brushing your hair aside.
Jisung had begun the game beside Minho. By the third round, he was mostly sitting on him. “Never have I ever,” Jeongin began, smiling in a way that immediately made Chan suspicious, “lied to get out of plans with someone in this room.” Nearly everyone drank.
Chan stared at the group. “Are you serious?” “You make too many plans,” Seungmin said. “I ask whether you want dinner.” “That’s still a plan.”
You lifted your glass. Seungmin looked down at you. “When did you lie to me?” You took a long sip. His fingers tightened gently at the back of your neck.
“When?” You smiled into your drink. “Next question.” “No. We’re staying here.” Felix laughed. “She said she was ill once because she wanted to watch a film with us.”
Seungmin stared at you. “You exposed me,” you told Felix. “I forgot it was a secret.” “You chose them over me?” Seungmin asked.
“You were working.” “You still lied.” “You would’ve sulked.” “I am sulking now.”
You twisted around to look at him. “Do you need a kiss?” Seungmin considered the offer. “Yes.” You kissed him quickly.
He kept one hand against your jaw and prevented you from moving away. “That was inadequate.” Everyone groaned. You laughed against his mouth before kissing him again, slower this time.
When you finally pulled away, Changbin threw a crisp at Seungmin’s head. “Some of us are single.” “You don’t have to watch,” Seungmin said. “You’re in the middle of the room.”
“Look somewhere else.” Hyunjin placed one hand against Changbin’s cheek and turned his face away. “There. Problem solved.” Changbin bit his palm. Hyunjin screamed.
The game continued. “Never have I ever had a crush on someone in this room,” Felix said. Silence fell. Then Jeongin drank.
Hyunjin drank. Changbin drank. Jisung lifted his glass, looked around and drank twice. Minho looked at him. “Twice?”
Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s shoulder. “I contain multitudes.” Minho took Jisung’s glass and drank from it. The room erupted. Jisung stared at him, eyes widening. “Was that your answer?”
“It was your drink.” “You have your own.” “I wanted yours.” “That is not an answer.”
Minho smiled into the rim of the glass. You turned towards Felix. He was already looking at you. Both of you burst out laughing.
“Don’t,” Minho warned. You covered your mouth with both hands. Seungmin’s chest shook behind you. Your sister remained completely still.
You could feel her watching. Felix nudged your knee. “You didn’t drink.” “I’m dating someone in the room.” “That doesn’t mean you never had a crush.”
Seungmin’s fingers slid beneath your chin and turned your face towards him. “You had better drink.” You stared at him. “Why?” “Because you had a crush on me.”
“That was never confirmed.” “You asked Chan for my number.” The group laughed. Your sister’s glass stopped halfway to her mouth.
Seungmin’s eyes flicked towards her, then back to you. Your smile softened despite the alcohol. Felix made an emotional noise. Minho pointed at him. “Don’t fucking start.”
Felix’s eyes had already begun shining. “I’m fine.” “You’re about to cry.” “I just think they’re cute.”
Seungmin felt you sniff. “No.” “I’m not doing anything.” “You’re crying.”
“Felix started it.” Felix wiped beneath one eye. “I’m happy.” “That makes it worse,” Seungmin said. You twisted and threw your arms around him.
He caught you automatically. “I love you.” Seungmin sighed, but his arms tightened around your waist. “I love you too.”
౨ৎ
The music became louder after that. So did everyone. Chan lost control of the playlist when you, Felix and Jisung began shouting over every song until he played something you liked. By then, the coffee table had disappeared beneath bottles, crushed cans and bowls of snacks nobody remembered opening. Somebody had spilt something sticky beside the sofa. Changbin had taken his shirt off for reasons nobody understood, and Hyunjin kept threatening to throw it out of the nearest window. You, Felix and Jisung dragged one another into the middle of the room.
At first, you actually danced. Felix knew what he was doing even while drunk. Jisung knew what he was doing until something distracted him, which happened every ten seconds. You possessed confidence far beyond your ability and therefore believed you looked incredible. Changbin encouraged that delusion by cheering whenever you moved. Hyunjin attempted to correct your posture once.
You told him to fuck off. He looked deeply wounded. “I’m trying to save you.” “I don’t need saving.” “You’re dancing like your limbs have separate plans.”
“They’re expressing themselves.” Felix laughed and caught your waist before you could stumble into the coffee table. Jisung pressed against your back, shouting the lyrics directly beside your ear while the three of you moved with very little coordination and enormous enthusiasm. From the sofa, Seungmin watched you. His blue shirt had come unbuttoned slightly at the throat, his hair had fallen across his forehead and his cheeks were warm from the alcohol. One hand rested around his glass while his eyes remained fixed on you.
Your sister sat only a few feet away. She attempted to speak to him twice. He answered politely, but barely looked in her direction. When you caught his gaze, you smiled and crooked one finger towards him.
Seungmin shook his head. You did it again. He lifted his drink as though that explained why he could not move. You pouted.
That worked. Seungmin put the glass down and crossed the room. Felix released your waist with a grin. Jisung remained attached to you until Minho appeared behind him, hooked an arm around his middle and pulled him backwards. Jisung laughed and twisted in his hold. “Jealous?”
Minho murmured something into his ear. Whatever it was made Jisung’s face turn bright red. Felix screamed. You screamed because Felix did.
Seungmin caught your face between both hands. “Why are you shouting?” You pointed vaguely towards Minho and Jisung. “Something happened.” “Nothing happened,” Minho said without looking at you. Jisung buried his face against his shoulder.
You grinned. “Something definitely happened.” Minho gave you a warning look. You immediately turned back to Seungmin and began adjusting his collar as though that had always been your intention. “Coward,” Seungmin murmured.
“You’re supposed to protect me.” “From the consequences of your own behaviour?” “You’re my boyfriend.” “That isn’t what that means.”
His hands slid to your waist as the song changed. You pulled him closer, and although he continued pretending not to dance, his body fell easily into the rhythm of yours. “There,” you said. “You’re dancing.” “I’m standing near you.” “You’re moving.”
“You keep dragging me around.” “You love it.” Seungmin lowered his mouth beside your ear. “I love you.” The softness of it caught beneath your ribs.
You turned and kissed him. He kissed you back without hesitation, one hand spreading across the small of your back while the party surged around you. Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else shouted at them to shut the fuck up. You suspected one of them had been Changbin. When you pulled away, Seungmin followed far enough to steal another brief kiss.
“You’re clingy,” you murmured. “You called me over.” “And you came.” “You pouted.”
“That’s all it takes?” “Unfortunately.” You smiled and kissed the edge of his jaw. His eyes closed.
“Again.” “You’re demanding.” You kissed his jaw again, and Seungmin’s grip tightened around your waist. Across the room, your sister emptied the rest of her glass.
You barely noticed. Seungmin’s attention had already wandered from dancing to pressing lazy kisses against whatever part of you happened to be closest—your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. When his lips brushed beneath your ear, you laughed and pushed lightly at his chest. “You’ve completely stopped dancing.” “I never started.”
“You came over.” “You summoned me.” “I moved one finger.” “Very controlling.”
His hand settled lower against your back, holding you close when somebody squeezed past. You reached up and fixed his collar again. “You look messy.” “You made me messy.” “That sounds suggestive.”
“It was meant to.” His smile turned slow and pleased. Before he could say anything worse, Felix collided gently with your side and caught your hand. “I need her.” Seungmin kept one arm around you. “You’ve had her for three songs.”
“The next one’s important.” “They’ve all been important,” you said. Seungmin looked at Felix. “You sound like her.” “That’s why she loves me.”
Felix pulled. Seungmin held on. You found yourself stretched between them. “Don’t make me choose.” Felix smiled. “You’ll choose me.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. “Choose carefully.” You pretended to consider it before twisting out of Seungmin’s arm, kissing him quickly and letting Felix drag you away. “Coward,” Seungmin called after you. “You still got a kiss!”
“Barely.” You laughed as Felix pulled you back into the crowd. The next hour dissolved into heat, noise and flashes of movement. Hyunjin danced as though someone might be filming him. Changbin attempted to copy him with enough force to make the floor shake.
Nearby, Minho took the glass out of Jisung’s hand and drank from it himself. Jisung watched him. “You said I couldn’t have that.” “You can’t.” “But you can?”
“Yes.” “That’s hot.” Minho looked away, but not before you saw him smile. Someone produced two microphones.
The karaoke began badly and deteriorated almost immediately. You, Felix and Jisung chose a song all three of you knew, which would have helped if any of you had agreed on when to start. Jisung came in too early. You missed half the first line. Felix attempted to hold the performance together and ended up laughing so hard that he could no longer sing. Changbin provided backing vocals without a microphone. Hyunjin acted out the lyrics from the sofa.
Chan kept trying to lower the volume and being shouted at whenever the music became even slightly quieter. By the second song, you had abandoned any pretence of performing well. You and Felix shared one microphone while Jisung used the other for increasingly dramatic ad-libs that had nothing to do with the actual song. Halfway through the chorus, you passed close enough to the sofa for Seungmin to hook his fingers around your wrist. He pulled.
You landed sideways across his lap, and the microphone struck his shoulder. “Shit. Sorry.” Seungmin took it from you before you could hit him again. “Ouch.” “I’m performing.”
“You’re screaming into expensive equipment.” He placed the microphone safely on the table. Felix shouted your name. You tried to stand, but Seungmin held your waist.
“I have responsibilities,” you told him. “You have absolutely no responsibilities.” “Felix needs me.” Felix and Jisung had abandoned the song and were arguing with Chan about whether the lyrics on the screen were wrong.
Seungmin looked towards them. “They seem busy.” “Then I need to help.” “You need to stay here for thirty seconds.” “Why?”
“I missed you.” Your expression softened before you could stop it. Seungmin smiled, knowing he had won. “You’re manipulative.”
You settled more comfortably across his thighs, one arm circling his shoulders. Seungmin rested his face against your chest and closed his eyes while your fingers moved through his hair. Across from you, your sister’s gaze remained fixed on his hand resting against your thigh. Your friend was speaking to her. Your sister nodded without listening.
By one in the morning, the party had split between the living room, the kitchen and the balcony. The music remained loud enough to vibrate through the floor. People drifted between conversations with drinks they had not poured and jackets that did not belong to them. Someone had opened a window, but the room was still hot with too many bodies and the sharp mixture of alcohol, perfume and whatever Changbin had sprayed after insisting he smelled fine. Your friend remained mostly with your sister. She laughed whenever the group became loud enough to include everyone, but she never tried to force herself into the easy physical closeness surrounding the boys.
You checked on her whenever you remembered. Each time, she assured you she was fine. Your sister always said the same. The fourth time you approached, your friend caught your wrist. “You are incredibly drunk.”
You looked down at yourself. “I’m standing.” “Barely.” Your friend laughed. Your sister did not. “She’s been throwing herself around for hours. She always gets like this when she drinks.”
There was something dismissive beneath the words. You recognised it even through the alcohol. Your friend did too. “She looks like she’s having fun,” she replied.
“I’m having an incredible time,” you announced. “I can tell.” Your sister glanced across the room towards Seungmin. “He must be exhausted.” You followed her gaze.
Seungmin was beside Chan, listening to Changbin explain something with far too much hand movement. He caught you looking almost immediately and lifted one eyebrow in silent question. You smiled. He smiled back. “Does he look exhausted?” you asked.
“He’s spent the whole night following you around.” “He likes me.” “I’m aware.” Before the conversation could sharpen, Felix appeared behind you and looped an arm around your shoulders. “There you are.”
“I’ve been here.” “You disappeared.” “I was checking on them.” Felix glanced towards your friend and sister. “Everything good?”
Your friend nodded. “We’re fine.” Your sister smiled at him. “We were talking.” “Great. I’m stealing her.” “You always steal her,” your sister said.
Felix laughed as though she had made a joke. “Everyone does.” He pulled you towards the kitchen. You looked back once. Your friend gave you a small, reassuring smile.
Your sister was already watching Seungmin again. In the kitchen, Jisung was sitting on the counter while Minho stood between his knees, holding a glass out of reach. “That’s mine,” Jisung complained. “It was yours.”
“I’m not finished.” “You said the room was spinning.” “It stopped.” “When?”
“When I closed one eye.” Felix immediately took Jisung’s side. “Give it back.” Minho looked at him. “You’re a terrible influence.” “You’re drinking too,” you pointed out.
“I can handle it.” “So can I.” Minho gave up and handed the drink to you instead. Jisung gasped. “That’s mine.”
“You’re too drunk.” “So are you.” “I’m handling it better.” Felix took the glass from you and drank before either of you could protest.
Minho laughed. It was becoming obvious that he was far drunker than he appeared. His movements were still controlled and his words remained clear, but his eyes had softened and he was smiling much too often. You stepped into the space beside him and wrapped both arms around his waist. Minho looked down. “What’s this?”
“I’m appreciating you.” “You’re crushing my shirt.” You rested your cheek against his chest. “You smell nice.” “None of you are getting another drink.”
“You ruined it,” you complained. “He ruins everything,” Jisung agreed. Minho caught Jisung’s chin and tilted his face upwards. “You can barely keep both eyes open.” “I only need one.”
“For what?” “To look at you.” Minho stared at him. You buried your face against Minho’s shoulder to hide your laughter.
Jisung looked unbearably pleased with himself. Minho’s ears turned pink. “You’re a fucking menace.” “You love me.” Seungmin entered the kitchen before anyone could comment.
He looked at Minho’s arm around you and Jisung hanging over his shoulders Then he looked at Minho. “You’ve collected them.” “I didn’t.” Seungmin approached and slid both hands onto your hips. “You keep disappearing.”
“You were talking.” “I can talk while holding you.” “That sounds inconvenient.” “I’m talented.”
Minho nodded towards you. “Take her before she asks for another shot.” You turned in Seungmin’s arms. “He’s trying to get rid of me.” “You’re attached to his shirt.” “I like him.”
“You like everyone tonight.” “I like everyone every night.” Seungmin’s expression softened. The next drinking game began in the kitchen because nobody could be bothered to move.
It was meant to be truth or drink. Within minutes, it became an excuse to ask invasive questions and shout whenever somebody refused to answer. Changbin joined first, followed by Hyunjin and Jeongin. Chan arrived last, realised what was happening and attempted to leave. You caught his wrist. “No.”
“I’m hosting.” “You’re hiding.” “I need to check the living room.” Jeongin looked towards the doorway. “It’s still there.”
Chan appealed silently to Minho for help. Minho poured him a drink. “Traitor.” “You chose to host.”
Everyone crowded around the counter and floor. You ended up sitting between Minho’s legs with your back against his chest because the chairs had disappeared beneath coats and bags. Seungmin sat in front of you, one hand wrapped loosely around your ankle. Jisung remained tucked against Minho’s side, his head on his shoulder and one leg draped over yours. Changbin pointed at you first. “Truth or drink?” “Truth.”
“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done because you were jealous?” Seungmin looked interested. You looked at Changbin. “I’m not jealous.” The entire room laughed.
“That wasn’t the question,” Hyunjin said. You raised your glass. “Then I’m drinking.” Seungmin’s hand tightened around your ankle. “Answer.” “You don’t get to interfere.”
Everyone shouted. “Coward,” Changbin said. “That’s the point of the game.” “The point is to expose yourself.”
“That sounds like a different game,” Jeongin said. You chucked at that The questions became worse from there. Felix refused to reveal who had received a flirtatious message he sent to the wrong person.
Changbin demanded to know whether anybody had ever hooked up somewhere they could have been caught. Half the room drank. Chan stared at everyone with a raised eyebrow. “In my home?” “Not necessarily,” Jeongin said.
“That did not reassure me.” Jisung claimed he had never done anything humiliating because he was horny. The entire group drank on his behalf. “Fuck all of you.”
Minho leant close enough to murmur something beside his ear. Jisung’s face turned red again. You twisted around. “What did he say?” “Nothing.”
Minho looked unbearably pleased. Your sister stood at the edge of the kitchen beside your friend. She watched Seungmin’s hand move slowly over your ankle. Then she watched Minho’s arm settle across your middle when you leant back against him. Perhaps she expected Seungmin to object.
Instead, he reached forward, caught your chin and tilted your face towards his. “My turn,” he said. You kissed him. The kiss was brief, but intimate enough to inspire several dramatic complaints.
When you pulled away, Seungmin’s thumb brushed once beneath your lip. Your sister looked away. The game ended when Chan realised the music in the living room was loud enough to make the glasses vibrate. Everyone returned to dancing.
By then, nobody pretended it was organised. You, Felix and Jisung shouted lyrics you barely knew with your arms around one another. Sometimes you danced. Sometimes you merely jumped during the chorus and trusted somebody to catch you. Changbin joined whenever the song was good. Hyunjin joined whenever he considered the song worthy.
Jeongin joined only to make everyone else look worse. At one point, Minho caught your hand as you passed and spun you beneath his arm. You nearly completed the movement gracefully. Then you lost your balance.
Minho caught you against his chest. Jisung caught you from the other side. The three of you laughed, tangled together. Seungmin appeared behind you and closed both hands around your waist. “You’re stealing my girlfriend,” he told Minho.
Minho shrugged. “She came willingly.” “He spun me.” “You asked,” Minho reminded you. Seungmin looked down at you. “You ask everyone for things.”
“And they give them to me.” “That’s because you’re spoilt.” “By you.” “Mostly.”
He kissed your forehead. You leant into him, suddenly overwhelmed by the warmth of the room and how much you loved everyone in it. Across the room, your friend smiled at the sight. Your sister finished another drink.
By the time you needed the bathroom, you were far beyond pleasantly drunk. You were still awake, still talking and technically capable of walking, but the room tilted whenever you turned too quickly. Seungmin noticed you heading towards the hallway and followed. You looked over your shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“With you.” “I can piss alone.” “I’m making sure you reach the bathroom.” “That’s insulting.”
Seungmin caught your waist before you walked into the wall. “Exactly.” You allowed him to guide you down the hallway, although you complained the entire way. At the bathroom door, you planted both hands against his chest. “You can’t come in.” “I wasn’t planning to.”
“You looked like you were.” “I was opening the door.” Seungmin smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be here.” “Why?”
“Because you’ll forget where the living room is.” “It’s one hallway.” “And yet.” You narrowed your eyes and disappeared into the bathroom.
When you came back out, your sister was standing in front of him. One hand rested against the wall beside his shoulder. Seungmin was leaning away. “You could come upstairs with me,” she said.
He blinked at her. “Why?” You stopped in the doorway. Even through the alcohol, laughter rose immediately in your chest. Your sister looked at him as though he were deliberately being stupid. “You know why.”
“I genuinely don’t.” She moved closer, forcing Seungmin’s back against the wall. “We could have sex.” For one long second, Seungmin simply stared at her.
Then his gaze found yours over her shoulder. You covered your mouth. The expression on his face made it impossible not to laugh. His eyes widened slightly, one corner of his mouth twitching as though he could not decide whether to be horrified or offended. Your sister followed his gaze and found you standing there.
Her face hardened. “Oh, please. Don’t act like it’s ridiculous.” That made you laugh harder. “I’m sorry. His face.” “You’re not helping,” Seungmin said.
“You asked why.” “It was a reasonable question.” “She invited you upstairs.” “She could’ve needed something.”
“At one in the morning?” “I didn’t know what she meant.” “You did,” your sister snapped. Seungmin looked back at her. “Apparently not.”
She folded her arms. “You haven’t even considered it.” “No.” “Why?” He stared at her.
Then he gave one short, humourless laugh. “Because I don’t want to.” “You don’t know that.” “I do.” “You’ve never given me a chance.”
“I’m not required to.” Your laughter faded. Your sister stepped closer and reached for his chest. Seungmin caught her wrist before she could touch him.
“Stop.” The word was calm. Firm. He moved her hand away and released it.
Humiliation sharpened your sister’s expression as she turned towards you. “You think this is funny because you assume he’d never choose me.” “I don’t assume it.” “You should stop speaking for him.” “I’m standing right here,” Seungmin said.
She ignored him. “You’ve always done this. You get something and act smug because you know somebody else deserves it more.” The alcohol inside you turned suddenly heavy. You steadied yourself against the bathroom door. “Somebody else?” “You know what I mean.”
“No. Say it properly.” Her eyes travelled over you. Your clothes had shifted from dancing. Your lipstick was smudged. Your hair was a mess and your balance remained questionable. You had never felt happier.
“Look at you,” she said. “You’re completely wasted. He’s spent all night following you around while you throw yourself over every man in the room.” Seungmin’s expression hardened. You laughed softly. “Is that what this is about?” “I’m saying he could do better.”
“With you?” “Yes.” The certainty would have been impressive if it were not so pathetic. Your smile disappeared.
Your sister noticed and pushed harder. “I’m prettier. I know how to behave. I don’t need eight men constantly touching me and telling me how special I am.” “Nobody is taking care of me.” “You can barely stand.”
“I’m drunk at a party.” “You’ve been climbing into their laps and letting them put their hands all over you. It’s embarrassing.” Seungmin stepped away from the wall and moved to your side. His hand settled securely at the back of your waist.
Your sister watched it. “She hasn’t embarrassed me once,” he said. “She’s been all over Minho. Felix practically had his hands under her clothes earlier.” “So?”
Your sister blinked. Seungmin’s thumb moved slowly against your side. “She loves them,” he said. “They love her. I know exactly where I stand.” “You should have more self-respect.”
His eyebrows rose. “You asked me to cheat on her beside a bathroom.” “You’ve spent the whole night trying to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, “and somehow I’m the slut?” Your sister glared at you. Seungmin continued before she could answer. “Don’t talk to either of us about self-respect.”
“You only say that because she’s standing here.” “I rejected you when she wasn’t.” “You knew she’d find out.” “I knew because I was going to tell her.”
“Why?” “Because she’s my girlfriend.” Your sister shook her head. “You don’t have to keep settling because she got to you first.” Seungmin went still.
There it was. The belief beneath every comparison and every attempt. You had simply reached him first. Had she met him earlier, dressed better, tried harder or pushed for long enough, he would eventually recognise that he had chosen the wrong sister.
Seungmin’s arm tightened around you. “I noticed her,” he said. Your sister scoffed. “You hadn’t met me.” “I’ve met you now.”
The hallway became very quiet. Music still thudded beyond it. Someone laughed in the living room. Your friend called your sister’s name once, distant and uncertain. Seungmin looked directly at her. “And I still choose her.”
Your sister’s face changed. For a moment, she appeared almost sober. Then the anger returned. “She isn’t better than me.”
“This isn’t about who’s better.” “It always is.” “No,” you said quietly. “It’s always been that way to you.” She looked at you.
You could feel Seungmin watching your face. At first, it had been funny. Her unnecessary outfits. Her fake excuses. The way she interpreted Seungmin’s basic manners as secret attraction. Even now, the idea that he might accept remained ridiculous.
But the joke had always required you to ignore the part where your sister could not want something without explaining why you deserved it less. “You can want him,” you said. “I don’t care. It’s humiliating for you, but it doesn’t threaten me.” Her mouth twisted. “What pisses me off is that you can’t admit you want him without telling him I’m ugly, exhausting, childish or not good enough. You don’t flirt with him. You campaign against me.”
“I’ve never called you ugly.” “You keep telling everyone you’re prettier.” “I am.” Seungmin made a disbelieving sound.
You glanced at him. “What?” “Nothing. I’m trying very hard to remain polite.” Your sister folded her arms. “See? You’ve turned him against me.”
“I didn’t have to. You did that by ignoring him every time he said no.” The words landed. Your sister looked at Seungmin. His expression did not soften.
“I thought you were being loyal,” she said. “I was being clear.” “You were trying not to hurt her.” “I was trying not to humiliate you.”
Her cheeks flushed. Seungmin’s voice lowered. “You’ve made that impossible.” Your friend appeared at the far end of the hallway. She looked between the three of you, taking in your sister’s expression and Seungmin’s arm around your waist. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” your sister said immediately. You laughed tiredly. “She asked Seungmin to have sex with her.” Your friend’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” your sister snapped.
“How should I say it?” “She’s drunk,” your friend said carefully. “So am I.” “I know.”
Your friend approached and touched your sister’s arm. “Come and sit down.” Your sister pulled away. “Everyone’s acting like I’ve done something terrible.” “You propositioned my boyfriend after he repeatedly told you he wasn’t interested.” “You don’t own him.”
“No,” you said. “I don’t.” That stopped her. You rested more heavily against Seungmin’s side but kept your eyes on her. “He’s a person. He said no. That should have mattered even if I didn’t exist.”
Your friend looked at your sister. “She’s right.” Betrayal flashed across your sister’s face. “You’re supposed to be here with me.” “I’m here because she invited me.” The answer was gentle but firm.
Your sister looked between you. Then she laughed bitterly. “Fine. Everyone thinks I’m pathetic.” Nobody answered. That seemed to hurt more than any denial would have.
Your friend held out her hand. “Come on.” After a moment, your sister accepted it. She allowed herself to be led back towards the living room without looking at either of you again. You remained in the hallway.
Seungmin rubbed one hand slowly over your back. You watched them disappear. Then you looked at him. “You really asked why.” His mouth dropped open.
The laughter returned before you could stop it. Seungmin stared at you. “You’re impossible.” “Your face was so confused.” “She was vague.”
“She had you against a wall.” “She said upstairs.” “At one in the morning.” “That could mean anything.”
“Name one other thing.” Seungmin opened his mouth. Nothing came out. You waited.
His expression grew increasingly offended. “Exactly.” He caught your waist in both hands and pulled you closer. “You’re very annoying.” “You love me.”
“I’m reconsidering.” “No, you aren’t.” “No,” he admitted. Your smile softened.
The alcohol made it difficult to hold on to one emotion for long. Amusement blurred into exhaustion, which blurred into the ache your sister’s words had left behind. Seungmin noticed. He always did. “Hey.”
You looked at him. His expression had gentled, eyes warm despite the alcohol. “Are you okay?” “I’m extremely drunk.” “I know.”
“She’s a bitch.” “She is.” “I can’t believe she said I throw myself over everyone.” “You do,” Seungmin said, completely unbothered. “Luckily, everyone seems very happy to catch you.”
“With all of you.” “I know.” His hand settled more firmly at your waist. “I’ve never complained.” “And you don’t care?” Seungmin looked genuinely confused. “Why would I?”
You shrugged. “Because she said—” “I don’t care what she said.” The answer came quickly enough to interrupt you. Seungmin lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles.
“I know you,” he said. “I know them. I know what all of this is.” His free hand gestured towards the living room, where Felix was shouting the chorus to another song while Minho told somebody to turn the music down without making any effort to do it himself. “You’re my girlfriend,” Seungmin continued. “That doesn’t mean you stop belonging with them too.” Something warm tightened in your chest.
“That was disgustingly sweet.” You kissed him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, keeping you close as the kiss deepened. Nothing frantic. Nothing performed for anybody else. Just familiar affection in a dim hallway while the party continued metres away.
When you pulled back, Seungmin followed for one more kiss. Then another. “You’re doing too many,” you murmured. “I’ve lost count.”
“You always say that.” You laughed and rested your forehead against his. “There she is,” he murmured. Footsteps sounded behind you.
Felix appeared first, followed by Jisung and Minho. Felix’s expression changed when he saw your face. “Are you okay?” You nodded. Jisung looked unusually serious. “Your friend said something happened.”
“My sister asked Seungmin to sleep with her.” Jisung stared at Seungmin. Then at you. Then back at Seungmin.
“Why?” You burst out laughing. Seungmin pointed at him. “See? Reasonable question.” “That isn’t what I meant,” Jisung said quickly. “Why would she think you’d say yes?”
“That sounded better after clarification.” Minho stepped closer and touched the side of your face. “Are you actually all right?” You leant into his palm. “Mostly.” “Mostly isn’t yes.”
“She was being a bitch.” “I gathered.” From the living room, Changbin shouted, “If you lot are done fondling each other, we’re doing another round.” Chan shouted back that nobody was doing another fucking shot.
Jeongin appeared in the hallway holding four. The party carried on around you.
synopsis ⋆˚꩜｡ you literally hate parties, and the guy that you met at one of them.. proves?… your point
genre ⋆˚࿔ crack mostly, fluff ish, lowk just the reader and seungmin pining a little without making it obvious
cw: alcohol, drunk! reader, mentions of blackout, parties, mention of horny men lmao, lmk if i missed any
part 1 | part 2
You hate it. Going out to events like this, especially in groups. Cause your friends suck at remembering to include every individual.
For some odd reason, the forgotten individual is literally always you. How? If there’s an even amount of people?? Beats you, like shit. Sometimes you think it’s done purposefully, just to rub it in your face.
You’re tired as fuck, and some drunk guy just spilt his drink all over your white top. Cute. This would be good if you were a whore, but you are not.
You’re walking with force to the bathroom, bumping into randos left and right, your arms across your chest, the wet patch exposing your pink bra. You literally want to crawl in a hole and die from embarrassment.
Once you get to the bathroom, you wiggle the doorknob just to find it locked.
“Hey, I need to get in there!” You call out, trying to be louder than the blaring music.
Patience left your mindset, truly. And kindness is about to also leave your mindset, as this person is still in there and dead silent.
“Hello?!?!” You yell, knocking against the wooden door. “Dude, come on!”
You’re about to knock again when the door swings open, and a guy with weirdly red lips and a girl with smeared lipstick walk right out, glaring. You genuinely think they’re gonna burn a hole in your face with the way they stare.
You watch them walk away, blinking.
Awkward.
You step into the bathroom, shutting the door and muffling the insufferable music out there. With a sigh, you drop your hands and stare at yourself in the mirror.
A mess. Definitely not happy to look one. Mad to look a mess.
You huff, looking around for a washcloth. You haven’t found one so far, and you seriously debate on using a random shirt that lays on the side of the sink. You stare at it, scrutinizing, debating. With a groan, you pick it up.
Then the door swings open, causing you to drop the shirt and immediately cover your chest. “Dude!! Ever heard of knocking?”
“It’s my house,” A guy says simply. He just smiles and leans against the doorway, “Oof. Casual case of ‘drunk idiot exposes innocent girls undergarments.’” He says simply, as if that wasn’t weird as fuck.
You just blink, “I already don’t like you.”
“Careful, I can kick you out.” He replies, shrugging.
You scoff, a small chuckle escaping, “If it comes with a ride home, please do so.”
He squints, forming his lips into a tight line. “I was joking. I’m not enjoying how a guest is unhappy with the party, however. How can I help you?” He grins.
You hum, “By leaving me alone. Or by actually finding me a ride home.”
He nods, leaning further against the doorway. “Fair.” His eyes glide down to where your arms are crossed over your chest, “Or I can get you a new shirt.”
You cock an eyebrow, “Not if I’m gonna be wearing some randos cum-stained t shirt.”
He snickers at that, “You’re funny. But, no. You can use one of my sisters. Come on,” He gestures his head toward behind him, indicating you to follow him.
You stare for a moment as he turns away, hesitant. But then you glance down at yourself.
You follow.
He enters a clean bedroom, so clearly a girls bedroom. It’s pretty, kind of gives high school teenage girl though— due to the millions of posters of men.
He hands you a black, plain, t shirt. “This should do. It’s oversized, so it’ll be comfortable.”
You grab the shirt, your other arm still covering your exposed bra color.
He grins at you, sending a nod your way. “Enjoy the party.”
He leaves you alone in this teenage girls room.
…
“Oh my god, I wish I didn’t drink last night.” Your roommate whines from the kitchen, opening the fridge.
You laugh, “Yeah, that’s why I didn’t.”
She whines, grabbing a water bottle and shutting the fridge door with her elbow. She opens the bottle, takes a sip, then approaches the couch you sit on as she closes the bottle back up.
“Well, we both know how my night went.” She says quietly, flopping down on the couch and groaning at the sudden impact, as if she didn’t do it to herself. “A whole lotta alcohol and embarrassment crying.”
You smile, glancing toward her from your phone. “Sounds fun.”
“What about your night?” She practically whispers, eyes shut.
You roll your eyes, “Don’t get me started. In summary, the party host had to give me one of his sisters’ shirt.”
Her eyes open, and she turns her head toward you. You know she would’ve been way more dramatic about that action if she weren’t hungover, “Um.. the host?? Like.. Seungmin?”
You glance toward her, “Uhh, is that his name? I don’t know. He said he was the host.”
She blinks twice, “Brown hair? Pale?? Is kind of egotistical?? Lowkey looks like a puppy???” She questions.
You shrug, “Yeah.”
She scoffs, “Girl, hello? That man is fine as fuck.”
You laugh at that, looking up from your phone. “I mean, I guess. He’s not that cute. His personality kinda ruins it.”
“Please, clearly he’s not that bad— he gave you a shirt.” She contradicts.
You raise your eyebrows at that, pursing your lips. “Okay, got me there.”
She laughs gently, turning cautiously toward you, as if avoiding her hangover to turn angry, “You need to like.. talk to him. That’s so cool that he helped you.”
You scoff, “Okay, he is not a celebrity. And I don’t know, I don’t really care.”
“Okay, but he is cool. Cool is the new currency.”
You smile a little, “Whatever. Maybe if I ever feel up to it. I do need to give him that shirt back anyway.”
She smiles, and jumps a little in excitement— but then immediately whines at the movement. “Omg. Hangover gods, just kill me. Just do it.”
You chuckle a little, turning back to your phone.
…
You aren’t smart.
Okay, sure, you’re like.. school smart. Maybe a little common sense smart, but you struggle with ‘street’ smart.
For example, like a week ago (about a week agooo. get it?), some guy came up to you at a party that your roommate dragged you into. He immediately smirked and said, “What’s the word?”
You genuinely stared like he spoke a foreign language. “What word?”
His expression sharpened with confusion, as if he was like, ‘Is she deadass?’
Yes, your ass is deadly.
He just gave a smile, then walks away.
When you told your roommate about it, she laughed for like 3 consecutive days. You then found out it’s some type of slang for ‘What’s up?’ or ‘How’s it been going?’
But, in your defense, you don’t care much about party language. You really don’t even care much about parties in general, but your friends are lonely assholes who drag you everywhere, but then manage to leave you out or get lost.
It’s truly chaotic.
But, anyways, this is being brought up because yet another person has walked up to you, in the library, talking some bullshit like, “Scoop me tonight?”
You literally are quiet, then laugh a little. “Did you just ask me to cuddle?”
A loud snicker comes from behind you, and you spin around so fast to see the party host. Or, Seungmin, as your roommate (Yeji) said.
The person who asked you the bullshit suddenly walks away, and you’re left with a bully. Seungmin continues laughing, then nods.
“That was good. Thank you. Truly made my day.”
“I know damn well you can’t read, why are you in the library?” You immediately reply, grabbing a book from a shelf that you’ve been looking for these past few minutes.
He just smiles, then hums. “That means, ‘pick me up’, by the way.”
“Like… with a car?” You scoff, “Why the hell don’t they just ask, ‘Pick me up tonight?’”
He shrugs, “Beats me. I don’t like to use the street terms.”
“Oooh, so normal of you.”
His smirk grows, “Got my shirt?”
“Why would I have your shirt with me at the library? No. It’s on my bed.” You reply blankly, now facing him as you hold the book against your stomach.
“Hey, was just asking. I’ll need that back at some point, yknow.”
“Okay. I can drop it off.”
“Or you can come over and give it to me while we hang out?” He cocks an eyebrow, trying something.
“You’re funny.”
“No joke was made. Thank you, though.”
“Yeah, no. I’m not a girl you get to fuck for a night then never interact with again, aside from little ‘glances’ across party rooms.” You mutter, laughing in disbelief.
“Wow. You think you know me so well,” He nods, stepping forward.
“I’d like to think I do. You’re all the same.”
“All? Like.. all college boys??” He replies, genuine curiosity.
“Yeah. You all think with your dicks, cause you never got to fully fulfill your puberty wet dreams.”
He hums, nodding with a smile. “Alright then. Since you know me so well.” He shrugs, “Worth a try. Just drop it off some day. You know where I live.”
You purse your lips, and nod. “Yeah.”
He holds his smile, leaves one last glance your way, then walks past you.
Okay. You’re kind of annoyed. Cause you debated on that invite for a second. Are you a whore? No, no. Maybe for Seungmin. Uh, no? You’re just thinking to think. Shit, stop thinking.
…
Once again, you’ve been dragged out to an alcohol overtaken party. This time, at a frat house. Somehow worse than house parties, cause frat parties are always full of horny little boys. (not actually little boys. more so grown men with a little boy mindset)
You literally hate these parties, you’re truly pissed at yourself for always giving into going anyway.
The only good part of these parties is the food. Sometimes the alcohol, if you’re feeling up to the hangover the next morning.
And tonight, you’ve felt up for it.
So.. you’re a little tipsy currently, looking around for your friend. Literally asking randos if they’ve seen her, maybe you should never be sober if it makes you this social.
You grab a guys arm, “Hey have you seen Yeji?” You say loudly, trying to overpower the sound of blasting music, as always. The guy turns around, and you literally debate on checking the ground below you to make sure your heart didn’t fall out your ass.
“Well hello again, y/n.” Seungmin smirks, holding a red solo cup. This man has got a backwards cap on, and you have never seen him look more like a stereotypical college guy. You’re kinda debating on ripping it off, as if it’d make you less attracted to him.
You’ve decided to blame it on the alcohol.
“So, have you seen her or no?” You reply, your weight shifting clumsily.
His eyebrows raise, and he smiles a little. “Drunk, I see? Wow. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“You don’t know me.”
His sweet smile grows into a smirk, and he nods. “That’s right. I’d love to, though.”
“Not gonna happen, Seungie.” You tease, your head lolling to the side.
“Oh, you’re extremely drunk.”
You shake your head, scoffing. “Please, cause I used a nickname I knew would embarrass you? I’m not sober, but i’m not fucked up. My mind is very casual.”
He just nods as you speak, and once you’re done, he glances around. “Right, umm— where’s your friend, again?”
“Uh, hellooo?— that’s what I came over to ask.”
“Oh, then I haven’t seen her, love.” He replies casually, taking a sip of his drink.
You sigh, “Great. I’m left alone again.” Then you cock an eyebrow, “Uh, don’t call me that.”
“Damn, almost got away with it.” He says in sarcastic defeat.
You smile a little, pointing at him, clicking your tongue. “Never.”
He chuckles a little, then nods. “Alright, let’s go find your friend.”
Your expression lights up at that, and you follow him as he approaches groups of people to ask about your roommate. Nobody has seen her.
You’re honestly kinda worried, but this has also happened a lot. She once woke up in her car, woke up with a guy, and also has woken up in the alley beside the house we were at. She’s kinda dangerous when drunk. You’re debating on whether you should get a leash.
“Sorry, nobody’s seen her.”
You hum, flicking your hand as if it’s nothing, “Eh, whatever. This happens often. I’ll just find a ride home.” You walk past him, approaching the door.
You’re about to open the door when your arm is grabbed, and it genuinely scares the shit out of you, but you’re too tipsy to defend yourself.
“Hey, why don’t you just let me take you home? I don’t trust you finding a random ride.” Seungmin says simply, meeting your gaze once you turn around.
“I don’t like you.”
“Okay, that’s fine. I still think you should let me take you home,” He replies, setting down his cup on a near table. Your eyes follow the cup.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“It’s sprite, here, taste it.” He defends, picking the cup back up.
You do taste it, and it is infact sprite. Or maybe just a really good alcohol. You reluctantly accept, sighing as you open the front door.
Once the door is opened, you feel the breeze of cold air, and that somehow makes the alcohol in your body kick in way more. How does that even work? Yeah, you’ve got no clue. But Seungmins a little concerned when you stumble down the steps.
“Hey, hey. Grab my arm.”
You scoff, lifting your palm. “Yeah, no.” You reply with a slight slur, and you even hear it yourself. When you notice the slur, you reluctantly grab onto his upper arm without a word.
He walks toward a black car, opening the passenger door for you. You glance at him suspiciously, “You are taking me home, right? Not to some alley??”
He stares in genuine offense, “Do you really think i’d do that?”
You stare for a moment, quiet, then step in the car. That’s your version of a no.
He walks infront of the car, approaching the drivers seat. He opens the door, lowering himself into the seat, then shuts the car door silently. He starts the car, then immediately begins to drive.
“What’s your address?”
“I live in a dorm,” You reply slowly.
“Okay… which one?”
“North.”
“Thank you,” He says quietly. You’re too tipsy to notice that there haven’t been any snarky remarks from either of you in a bit, but deep down you notice the comfort. It’s weird.
Once you’ve arrived at your dorm, words are finally spoken as you make an effort to open your door.
“Hey, i’m walking you in”
“Eugh, no. It’s not necessary.” You slur, with a gentle, but prominent attitude.
“Yeah, no. It’s necessary. Wait there.” He gets out of the car, and suddenly your car door is swung open, and he holds out your hand.
“I kinda feel like a princess, but you’re the janitor.”
“The maid?” He laughs a little.
“I’d like to see that.”
“What?”
You giggle, following him inside the building and up the steps of your dormitory. Once you arrive at your room after directing him, he opens the door for you.
“Are you good?” He asks genuinely, and you stop at your doorway.
“I’m peachy.” You smile lazily, turning to face him, and stumbling after twisting your feet around each other. He grabs your arm, sighing after your safely caught.
“You’re a mess.”
“Rude.” You huff, turning and entering your room.
“Can I come in?” He asks casually, and you are genuinely confused.
“Uh.. why?”
“Cause, you just tripped over your feet walking in here. I can see from here that the room is mess. I’m a little nervous that you may give yourself a concussion.” He replies, and you huff.
“Are you always so protective over random girls?”
“Only the one who likes to act like shes untouchable.” He says from behind you, his hand on your back as you walk to your room.
“Not an act, by the way. I am untouchable. Ask around, I haven’t fucked one ugly guy here.”
He laughs a little, “No, I believe you. It’s not an act, guess I worded it wrong.”
“Yeah.” You reply, stepping into your bed and under the covers.
“Okay. You’re good?” He asks, pulling the blanket up.
You nod, looking up at him. Theres a long moment of silence, accompanied with staring. But it’s not even uncomfortable, it’s like you’re admiring each other.
But you cut it off, “Are you living here now, orr?”
He smiles, and chuckles. “No, no. I’ll head home.” He nods, and leaves your room. You’re quiet, staring at the doorway he’d disappeared from. Then you hear the sound of your front door shutting.
Oh my goddd. Like what?
oooooohu hopefully yall see the potential in this one👀
summary: fed up with the way the slytherin boys create chaos without consequence, someone seeks to bring them down a notch by going after the one thing their strongest loves most: you.
word count: 6.6k 🫣
soundtrack: heathens - twenty one pilots
author’s note: i promise this isn't deranged, there is ample flangst and a mattheo that would burn the world to the ground for you ♡
warnings: this is relatively dark (for me anyway!) reader is attacked + kissed/touched against their will. mentions of blood, knives and violence.
If you'd heard it once, you'd heard it a thousand times.
Be careful.
He's dangerous.
You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
As if you weren't an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions, of reading people, of caring for your own heart.
On paper, you and Mattheo Riddle made no sense. You were quiet and calm, friendly and compassionate, quick with a warm smile and a hug. You were light and laughter and goodness.
By contrast, Mattheo was rough and edgy, quick to anger with a firecracker temper and a biting sarcasm like a venomous snake that kept everyone but his closest friends at an arm's length. But around you? He melted.
It was like you held the key that unlocked his defenses, allowing you to walk straight into the dark center of his heart. He would have mocked any guy who fell for a girl the way he fell for you: immediately, irrevocably and hard. And once he had his mind made up about you, there was little you could say in the matter (not that you were arguing).
He showered you with a depth of affection that was rare for anyone, let along the brooding bad boy of Hogwarts.
Suddenly, he was just there, beside you in class, next to you at meals, and keeping you company in the library as you studied. Before long you began to crave the feeling of his presence, of his warmth next to you, of the low rumble of his voice meant only for you to hear as he shared an inside joke or complimented you. He'd eagerly watch your face light up in return, the twinkle in your eyes, the lift of your lips and your happiness became a high for him that he wouldn't stop chasing; making you happy and keeping you happy became his mission, one that he succeeded at in every way.
Then late one night in the library you were huddled close together as a storm racked the castle outside, sending wind and rain against the large windows. Your heads were close together as you spoke in whispers. You looked at him and smiled and for just the breath of a second your eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips, and that was all the invitation he needed. He leaned in slowly, winding his hand to cup the side of your face as he pressed his lips to yours and he kissed you with tenderness and hunger, the combination of which pulled you out of your seat and onto his lap. And once he realized how bright you shined after he kissed you? He was a goner. And so were you.
There wasn't a thing anyone could say to you about Mattheo after that that you would have listened to, because he had you, heart and soul. He treated you like royalty, he protected you like treasure and he loved you with everything he had in him. What more could a girl possibly ask for?
You fell in step with Mattheo's long strides on your walk to breakfast, the early morning light beaming through the stained glass windows.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, right where he always wanted you, as close to him as possible. You nuzzled into his neck and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
As usual, the sea of students in the corridor dipped and dodged out of your way, leaving a wide berth for your group out of deference and intimidation. It was odd for you at first joining the group that held the rest of the school in such rapt fear because it was immediately obvious that they were just like everyone else, they just didn't care to show that side of themselves to the world; they were fun-loving, goofy, affable and caring and they quickly adopted you as one of their own.
You rounded the corner to the Great Hall and Mattheo went crashing into a figure that hadn't had the wherewithal to get out of his way. He tightened his grasp on you out of instinct and narrowed his eyes towards Seamus Finnegan who had dropped the entire stack of books he'd been holding and looked ready to argue about it until he saw who he was confronting. He bit his tongue instead, averted his eyes, and stepped out of your way.
Mattheo moved by him without a word, the slight already forgotten, but you glanced back with the smallest ounce of pity in your eyes as Seamus knelt to the floor to gather his books and a few Gryffindors came to help him.
"M'fuckin' sick of it" Seamus said quietly once you were out of earshot. "Him, them, walkin' around like they own the school" he shot a nasty glare in the direction of the Slytherin table.
"Good luck doing anything about it" Ron sighed, resigned. "Nasty temper, that one" he added, eyes shifting warily towards Mattheo like he might actually have the ability to hear him from the other side of the loud hall.
"It's cruel is what it is! Neville is still trying to recover from Nott hexing him. He claimed it was an 'accident', but we all know the truth. He should be expelled!" Hermione added hotly, her cheeks flushing at the idea of anyone breaking the rules and getting away with it.
Seamus grimaced as he stared at your group, at the ease with which you had all carried on with your morning, laughing and joking, boisterous, without a care in the world because you knew you were all completely untouchable, above reproach or reprimand.
He knew there wasn't a thing he could do in retaliation without ending up in the infirmary or worse he thought solemly.
What I wouldn't give to take them down a notch his mind whirled, to make them feel something, to feel vulnerable, on edge, afraid like the rest of us.
His eyes narrowed.
Surely there was a weakness, a vulnerability he could find, something something to level the playing field. His eyes skated over Draco and Blaise, over Theo's large frame and Lorenzo's tall figure before they landed back on Mattheo, and finally on you.
You.
He watched the way Mattheo kept his arm around you, as he always did, keeping you close to his side like you were two parts of one whole and Seamus thought about the way he'd seen Mattheo pull you even closer when he'd run into him. He watched, really watched him turn to look at you when you talked and saw a surprising softness in his normally cold, dark eyes.
It was no secret that you two were together, Mattheo loved kissing you openly, unabashedly, anywhere and everywhere he pleased: in between classes, after quidditch matches, at meals, even in class from time to time with a complete disregard to anything the professors said about it.
If there was one thing anyone knew or had learned the hard way it was that you were one hundred percent off limits and to think otherwise was a death wish.
Seamus remembered the transfer student several months ago that had unknowingly asked you out, and how Mattheo had broken his nose over it. Twice. Never mind the time Mattheo happened to overhear a Ravenclaw compliment your outfit, and he ended up puking slugs for weeks.
Seamus shuddered.
Mattheo had an appetite for violence and a temper that never burned hotter than when it came to you, sending him into a fitful spiral.
She's his weakness he realized.
"I have an idea" he said to the group around him.
Weeks later, your feet carried you quickly down the winding stone staircase from Divination. You were first out the door, eager to spend every second of the short break you had between classes with Mattheo as you always did at this time in the neighboring stairwell of the North Tower.
You turned the corner to see him leaning against the wall, waiting for you and your face lit up as you strode toward him in the small, empty space. He stood up straighter as he took you in and he fidgeted with his hands in an unusually nervous way that had you laughing as you approached him and pressed into him, winding your arms around his neck.
"Hi handsome" you breathed against his lips before you kissed him.
But it was like kissing a statue.
His lips sat unmoving against yours, his hands awkwardly at his side.
"Matty?" you asked, pulling back to look at him to see the same look of genuine nerves on his face, his cheeks flushed.
You laughed again, totally confused at his reaction.
"Are you okay?—"
"—Y-yeah" he mumbled before running his hands slowly up your sides. "Yeah, m'so good" he confirmed before tugging you into him.
His lips met yours but something was still off, he was stiff and awkward. You moved to pull away from him again but his grip on you tightened, holding you in place until he swung you around and pushed you against the stone wall so quick and so hard your head knocked against the surface painfully.
Mattheo was a lot of things.
But careless with you was not one of them.
Your heart raced in your chest as your head throbbed. You pushed against him, but he was unwavering as he deepened his kiss aggressively, sloppily, despite your growing protests. And then he bit your bottom lip. Hard. And you tasted blood.
"Ah! Mattheo - what the fuck!" you said, shoving him hard this time as your hand flew to your bleeding lip.
He looked completely disheveled, flushed, his eyes glazed as he stared at you. Your stomach roiled.
And then you earnestly began to panic because for the first time in the year you'd been together you were keenly aware of how tall and how big he was, and how helpless you were in comparison.
Your heart began to race and your breaths came fast and shallow as you searched his face for any sign of the boy you loved and every cautionary word you'd been told came racing back to you: Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
Those fears mixed with how fiercely you loved him in a cocktail of confusion that left tears burning in your eyes as you tried to hold back a sob.
At the sight of that he smirked and a chill ran down your spine.
You tried to run.
He grabbed you.
"C'mon dove" he said, caging you in with his arms against the wall despite how you squirmed. "I know you like it like this" he muttered as lips attached to your neck and he began to suck and bite you.
Dove?
He'd never once called you that.
You scraped against his chest. You tried to shout until he put a hand over your mouth and it was like he was intentionally trying to mark you, sucking your skin so hard you could feel the bruising as you pushed and punched him to no avail. He reached for the top of your shirt and yanked, tearing it as buttons flew off.
You were crying hard now as you fought his hands when suddenly voices echoed in a nearby corridor and he pulled away from you.
His grip loosened and his eyes flashed with fear, and then he left, taking off down the corridor without a word.
You sunk to the floor in disbelief, gasping to catch your breath as cries ripped from you and you wrapped your arms around yourself, your brain a mottled mess as you tried to comprehend what the fuck had happened to your boyfriend.
As soon as you could steady yourself, you grasped your torn shirt with shaking hands and made your way as quickly as you could to the common room through a series of passageways and abandoned corridors to avoid running into anyone.
You snuck into the dungeons, head down, desperate to get to your room, when you heard your friends' voices.
"There she is. Hey! YN!" Blaise shouted.
Shit.
You tried to ignore him, to act like you didn't hear anything.
"YN!" Theo called after you, louder. "Hang on, I'll get her" he said, standing to come after you.
You tried to walk faster, doubling your pace.
"Hey, hey!" Theo said, catching up with you easily with his long strides. "Have you seen Mattheo? He—"
He reached for you and you pulled out of his grasp, turning to face him and he stopped in his tracks, the words dying on his lips as his eyes widened and the color drained from his face.
"YN" he said quietly, intently. "What the fuck happened to you? Holy shit."
He reached for your face, taking your chin in his warm hand, his touch so soft and gentle, so completely opposite of everything you'd just experienced that you immediately began to cry.
"Bella, your lip" he said, panic slipping into his tone both at your reaction and the sight of the blood there. "Who the fuck did this?"
You closed your eyes and shook your head and he slowly wrapped his arms around you. Your head fell to his chest as you grasped him, soaking his jumper with your tears.
By now, Draco, Lorenzo and Blaise had come over and were muttering softly.
"Bloody hell."
"This is fucking mental, mate."
"Matty is going to kill them."
And at just the mention of his name, you pushed further into Theo's chest, burrowing there like you could hide from the world.
"Bella, you're going to have to tell him, you can't protect whoever did this" he said, misreading your reaction.
"Well, we'll have to find him first. He'd better hear this from us" Blaise said.
Find him?
"W-what do you mean find him?" you muttered against Theo's chest.
"Haven't seen him since breakfast. Wasn't in class this morning and didn't come for our smoke" Draco replied.
Your head ached as much from your tears as it did from where he'd pushed you into the wall as you tried to process that. What had he been doing all day? And what the hell had gotten into him?
A burst of laughter, shouts and a loud wolf whistle echoed from behind you and pulled the group's attention to the door. You peeked from the comfort of Theo's arms to see Mattheo walking in... in his underwear.
"Thank you, thank you" he smirked, bowing cockily to the group of onlookers who cheered and gawked at his half-naked body, moving to make his way towards his room until he saw your group.
"There you fuckers are" he said as he approached. "I have had a fucking day - someone's getting their face rearranged—" but he stopped midsentence when he got close enough to see you in Theo's arms.
"What's going on? What's wrong?" he asked, stepping towards you immediately.
Theo moved to let you go but you gripped him tighter, hiding yourself, refusing to move.
Mattheo stopped, startled by your reaction like he'd run into a brick wall. He stood at a distance from you, completely unmoored by the sight of you grasping onto someone else for comfort. His heart began to thump heavily and angrily in his chest and his cheeks flushed in irritation and embarrassment.
He let out a steadying breath, his jaw clenched as his eyes slid to Theo, the decided object of the brewing anger he felt.
"What. The fuck. Is going on?" he asked again, his fury palpable.
"It's not—I don't—" Theo stumbled.
"—She hasn't said anything, mate" Enzo clarified.
You could feel yourself begin to shake and a dam of pressure welled up behind your eyes at how angry Mattheo was, at how afraid you were to be near him, at what he might do or say next and yet at the same time, how much you craved his comfort, how you knew he was the only person who could truly make you feel better.
Your tears came hot and wet down your cheeks as you cried into Theo's chest and Mattheo felt something crack inside of him. He'd never once seen you like this and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, sick over how upset you were, sick that you were in pain, sick that you didn't seem to want him or to be anywhere near him, sick that he didn't know what to do or how to help.
"B-baby, please?" he said, nearly begging as he tried to move closer.
The tone in his voice and the affectionate nickname tugged at your heart.
You swallowed and turned your head to look at him, gently, tentatively letting Theo go.
Mattheo's eyes met yours before they wandered over your face.
His face fell.
And he stopped breathing.
A cold sensation like the ooze of a cracked egg ran down his body as he looked at you.
Your mascara was smeared, caught in the tears that were running down your face. Your cheeks were red and flushed and your lip was swollen and bleeding. He catalogued the bruises down your neck and marks that looked an awful lot like bites there too that led to your ripped and tattered shirt.
Mattheo had been angry plenty of times in his life, and for good reason. But this was the first time he felt it. He could have told you where and how quickly the rage pulsed in his veins, blooming hot in his chest, pumping into his arms, into his hands that curled into fists and ached to hit something, into his stomach, his legs that wanted to run, to cause chaos and destruction until he fixed this.
But he didn't expect the next emotion that hit him like a dark wave in a stormy ocean, all consuming, nearly bowling him over: deep and overwhelming sadness.
"N-no, no no no who-who did this? Baby" his voice ached with pain as he moved to step towards you again, desperate to hold you, to make it better as quickly as he could.
You took a small, hesitant step back and looked at him with confusion, with trepidation.
And you said the next words so quietly he was certain he'd heard you wrong.
"You" you whispered.
His face scrunched in confusion.
"It was you" you said louder and all the boys turned to look at you and then back to Mattheo.
"In the stairwell? Our spot?" you said pointedly, trying to get him to remember.
"You were there, waiting for me, but you were... off. Different. And then y-you..." you gestured to yourself as you tried to keep from coming undone again at the memory.
Theo took a protective step closer to you.
Mattheo carded his hands through his hair in exasperation where they rested atop his head as he paced a step back and forth before stopping in front of you. It was taking his entire willpower not to lose his composure, and not to launch at his best friend.
"I got jumped this morning" he said patiently, evenly, though his underlying anger was still very much there. "I woke up in a broom closet ten minutes ago with no fucking clothes."
"B-broom closet?" you muttered, confused.
"Yeah, it was maddening, had to break the door down and— look, that doesn't matter. Please please tell me you believe me."
Your mind was reeling. You opened your mouth hesitantly to reply, but you couldn't find your words, your emotions, your fear, everything you felt far too raw.
He let out another deep breath and then crouched in front of you, making himself smaller, less threatening as he met your gaze directly.
"You are the most important person in my world. You know that, right? You are everything to me. Everything that is precious and perfect and right. And I would never ever hurt you."
You met his dark brown eyes that were shining intently up at you, unflinching in their truth and you nodded despite your tears and sniffles. Of course you knew that, which was why everything that happened this morning was so fucked up.
He slowly extended his hand to you, palm up, wordlessly asking you to believe him, to trust him.
"You're okay now, you're safe. No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here, okay?"
And gods you'd needed to hear that. You nodded again, more strongly now.
"We're going to figure this out. And I'm going to fix this, I can promise you I will fix this. Hey, can you look at me?"
Your eyes met his and more hot tears fell down your cheeks at the gentleness and patience in his expression, the way he was nearly on his knees begging for you to trust him, to believe that the boy in front of you in no way could have been the boy from this morning and you pursed your lips.
"I love you" he whispered.
And those words alone healed a significant part of your hurt.
You slowly placed your shaking hand in his and it was like your body immediately registered the difference in his touch, how he tenderly ran a thumb over your knuckles as he continued to speak softly to you as he stood up.
"I've got you, you're going to be okay. It's me, I'm here" he said as he slowly pulled you toward him.
You took one step, and then another, and then you curled yourself against his warm chest and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding as you grasped him. He held you tightly to him, squeezing hard, and his hand held the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your temple.
You sniffed and let out a few more shaky breaths, letting him consume you, trying to replace every memory from this morning with his touch like it could pull the fear from you as you listened to his heartbeat and took in his familiar smell.
Theo cleared his throat as politely as possible.
"Really hate to break up the moment, but if you spent the morning in a broom closet, then how the fuck were you also walking around the North Tower?—"
"—Polyjuice potion" Draco said, without missing a beat, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's the only logical explanation, would also explain why they had to take your clothes" he gestured to Mattheo's half-naked body.
"What?!" Blaise exhaled in disbelief.
"So you mean to say someone planned all of this? Went through all of this effort just to get to her?" Theo asked, and you could hear the fury rising with his tone.
Mattheo's arms squeezed around you, a subconscious reaction to the thought.
"What kind of sick fuck?—"
"—I'm going to kill them" Mattheo said flatly.
And it wasn't a turn of phrase.
He'd said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly that you nearly believed him and hugged him back a little tighter.
"Do you have any idea who it was?" Lorenzo asked.
"No you dipshit, don't you think if she knew it wasn't him this wouldn't have happened?" Draco replied, smacking him in the back of the head.
Theo and Blaise chimed in, arguing the point with one another.
"He did say something weird" you mused quietly, silencing them all as they turned to look at you. "He called me dove" you said, shaking your head at the memory, like you could make yourself forget it.
Mattheo held you that night in a way that made you wonder if he'd ever let you go again. Every minute you spent back with the real him seemed to stitch you together again, to heal and comfort you as you snuggled further into his arms.
He'd apologized no less than a thousand times by now, the guilt steadily eating away at him, even though he had nothing to be sorry for, which you continually reminded him.
"You're a fucking angel" he sighed, unable to stop thinking about it as he traced a thumb over your cheek, his expression sorrowful and raw. "Someone did this to you because of me."
"Matty, that's not—"
"—I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been there."
"It's okay, it's not your fault. I'm okay now" you said, smiling, feeling the words as you said them, tracing a finger down the bridge of his nose.
You tried to reassure him the rest of the night, managing to coax a few smiles out of him, but his eyes never left you, like he feared looking away for a single blink would leave you in danger. And although a spell had mended your lip and healed your bruises, he continued to trace his fingers over where each mark on your skin had been, like he was reminding himself, committing them to memory.
Nothing could have prepared you for the tension of the days that followed.
The whole group was on edge, like a pack of rabid dogs, ready to snap at anyone that got too close to you. One if not all of them walked you to every class, to every meal, to every event, to Hogsmeade and back again; Mattheo even insisted on showering with you and sleeping with you every night, much to you sincere enjoyment.
The boys spent their days eyeing everyone with suspicion and their nights trying to plot out who might have attacked you. Five guys were walking around the castle with black eyes, but no one had come clean and it was slowly driving them mad; the lack of answers was taking the situation from a serious problem to a personal vendetta.
Two weeks passed. And though the tension remained, you were settling into the heightened level of protection, finding a sense of calm in the way the boys surrounded you like a security blanket. You had every confidence that they would figure this out and until then all you could do was seek a return to normalcy, to focus on the present.
You grounded yourself with the task at hand, potting bundles of dittany during Herbology class shoulder to shoulder with your friends at a long table in the warm greenhouse, the boys acting as a veritable wall between you and the Gryffindors.
Your eyes caught Mattheo's across the narrow table from you and you watched the way the spring sun caught his dark locks. He sent you one of his signature smirks and a quick wink that made you blush and smile.
Your classmates chattered back and forth quietly until a phrase wafted down the table as Seamus Finnegan leaned over to Hermione Granger.
"C'mon dove, help me out?"
And it was like someone sucked the air out of the room. The warmth in the greenhouse suddenly felt stiflingly hot and you could hear the blood rushing to your head as it whooshed in your ears.
Time slowed to seconds like the tick of a broken time-turner.
Five.
Your eyes lifted and met Mattheo's whose had lost all warmth and peace in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. They were devoid of color, clouded, jet black. His jaw ticked as he looked at you, asking you wordlessly to confirm what he'd just heard.
The trill of Finnegan's voice, the accent was all too familiar, it was undeniable and it sent you spiraling back to that morning in the stairwell in a way that had you woozy on your feet. You nodded, small and quick back to him.
Confirming what you'd thought so many times before, that there was an inexplicable bond that linked the boys together, four sets of eyes wordlessly confirmed the same.
And then chaos erupted.
Four.
Lorenzo ran for Finnegan and Theo dropped the plant in his hands, sending shattered pottery and dirt flying in his rage, hot on Enzo's heels.
Three.
Your eyes followed them both but fell to Draco who had started moving in the opposite direction, frantically pushing past classmates who were looking around in panic as he tried to reach Mattheo.
Two.
You glanced at your boyfriend.
He hadn't moved.
He wasn't making a scene, but he'd pulled out his wand, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember a time when he'd favored his magic over his fists.
Oh no you thought as you began to move towards him yourself.
One.
Mattheo stood straight and tall, brandishing his wand with unflinching confidence and surety as he pointed it directly at Finnegan's head.
"AVADA KE—" his voice boomed.
"—Not like this, mate!!" Draco shouted, grabbing his arm at the last possible second.
"Get the fuck off of me!" Mattheo roared, the contact breaking him out of his stupor as he thrashed in Draco's arms.
By now the others had wrangled Finnegan whose face was as green as the detail on their robes; he knew he was utterly and hopelessly fucked, and if you weren't sure before you were certain now that it had been him, the guilt so clear on his face it might as well have been written on his forehead. Your skin crawled.
The rest of your classmates were running and screaming, tearing by you to flee the room as your feet kept you cemented to the floor.
"You're dead! You're fucking dead!" Mattheo's voice echoed, as he screamed and thrashed in Draco's arms.
"You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it, Finnegan! How dare you, how fucking dare you!!!"
Draco was barely holding onto him as they all walked quickly towards the back of the greenhouse.
You moved to follow until Blaise came up beside you and gently reached for you, pulling you into the throng of people fleeing.
"C'mon" he said, softly but firmly guiding you the other way, back towards the castle. "They've got this, you don't need to be here for this—"
"—But this is because of me, Blaise" you urged, pulling back, frantically looking between him and the disappearing figures of Mattheo and your friends, his raging threats echoing off the glass walls in a way that amplified them.
"No, this is because of Finnegan" he said coldly, following your gaze. "And he'll get what's coming to him."
Blaise guided you quickly back to the castle, back to the common room and he tried his best to keep you company, to keep you occupied, though neither of you could properly focus on anything else.
"It'll be alright, right?" you asked quietly, for the hundredth time.
He nodded steadily. "It'll be alright, YN" he reassured you.
You sighed.
"This is just... a lot" you admitted.
"Babe, if you wanted someone to be level-headed and normal about you, you're with the wrong guy" he said in attempt to make you smile.
You smiled weakly and toyed with the fringe of the blanket that you pulled into your lap.
An hour passed.
And then four more.
You skipped dinner and sat in the secluded corner of the common room with Blaise until it emptied and the embers in the fireplace burned low, nearly out. You had sat quietly together now for hours. You were exhausted of conversation and exhausted from the wash of emotions from the day, a mix of relief, of pain in reliving the memories upon hearing Finnegan's voice, of worry about what exactly was going on.
You'd never seen Mattheo like that; he had been completely unhinged and you recalled his words the day it all happened. "I'm going to kill them" spoken like a vow, an oath.
It was beyond late before the door snicked open quietly and the four boys walked in without a sound. You and Blaise stood and they met Blaise's eyes first, nodding at one another before your friends departed, leaving you with somber smiles to be with Mattheo.
You navigated around the couches to him, your footsteps quickening to close the distance and you pulled him into your arms. His body was stiff with tension, but you felt it begin to melt away the second you touched him; he nuzzled into you and you could feel the tired on him, mixed with a burdened sense of relief.
"Come on" you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.
He sat down on the corner of the bed in the dim light and let out a sigh like he was trying to unload the weight he'd been carrying, his shoulders slumped as he ran his fingers through his hair. You stepped between his legs and reached for his hands the way you always did, ready to tend to them.
"They're fine" he croaked, his voice hoarse as he met your gaze, smiling softly at you, taking you in. You could tell he was trying to distract you and when he rested his hands on your hips and moved to pull you into him, he almost succeeded.
You pressed a quick, searing kiss to his lips and then reached to pull his hands off of your hips and he relented, sighing again.
His knuckles were badly bruised and bloodied, at least two of them looked to be broken from what you could tell and a frown crested your lips to know that the same hands that were so gentle with you could be capable of such violence.
But it was the crimson blood that stained his palms, that gathered under each fingernail that made you pause. That was new.
"Mattheo" you whispered, the question lingering in the air unspoken. What did you do?
"He's gonna be gone for awhile" he said plainly in response before his eyes met yours straight on, intense.
"And he is never, ever going to touch you again."
You pursed your lips and nodded, acknowledging that this was his way of apologizing, of making things right, of balancing the scales of justice as judge, jury and executioner.
He brought his bloody hands to your face, cupped it gently and kissed you.
Seamus didn't come back until well after spring solstice, weeks later.
Despite the rampant rumors and speculation, he didn't say a single word about what happened, like the boys had taken his very voice from him.
His face was still mottled with multicolored bruises, one eye swollen shut, evidence that even magic couldn't heal the extent of the damage they'd caused.
But even despite that, something you'd learned about your friends is that they were not quick to forgive and they never, ever forgot...
You were lounging by the Black Lake on an unusually warm afternoon, sprawled on a large blanket with your friends, your shoes and socks forgone and your skirt and shirtsleeves rolled up in an effort to catch a tan.
Mattheo himself was shirtless beside you, his eyes closed against the warm rays as you rested your head on his bicep. Theo, Enzo and Draco were sitting next to you playing exploding snap while Blaise flipped through a book, and you sighed, reveling in the rare moment of peace, which didn't last longer than fifteen minutes.
"Bit warm for a jumper, isn't if Finnegan?" Draco shouted.
Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head to see a group of Gryffindors nearby.
Sure enough, the group was dressed like you, short sleeves, bare feet, but for Finnegan who was covered head to toe and was visibly dripping sweat. His faced flushed even redder at the comment as he averted his eyes, immediately shrinking in pure terror.
"Should take it off, mate" Lorenzo chimed in cheekily. "Enjoy the sun, no?"
Seamus swallowed but wouldn't meet their eyes.
You turned to look at Mattheo but he hadn't moved. His eyes remained closed though you could see a muscle tic in his clenched jaw.
"C'mon then" Theo said, sitting up like he meant to move. "Need our help? We'll come lend a hand."
Seamus looked like he was about to cry as his face crumpled.
You didn't know what they were playing at, but you could tell it was torturing him, and for the briefest moment you pitied him, until your memories came wading back, threatening to overwhelm you with the feeling of sickening fear and betrayal.
And it was like Mattheo could sense it, his eyes fluttering open to look at you as he tried to tug you back into his arms.
"Just ignore them" he said, his voice still scratchy.
But you saw Seamus pull his sweater over his head out of the corner of your eye and as it came away from his body you noticed the crimson lines covering his arms. Even at your distance you could feel the sickness of them, the curse of dark magic in the air and several people gasped and scrambled away from him.
You sat up and stared closer as you realized the lines spelled something.
On his left arm, MUDBLOOD in deep angry jagged letters, in wounds carved into his skin.
On his right, RAPIST.
He took one fateful look at your group and then got up and nearly tripped over himself as he ran back to the castle.
"Aww, was it something I said?" Draco cried after him.
"Bye!" Lorenzo waved cheerfully.
Blaise blew him a kiss.
And Theo watched his every move under dark lidded eyes.
But Mattheo was looking solely at you, trying to gauge your reaction, your understanding. He reached for your hand and twined his fingers in yours, pulling you back to lay down with him as he looked at you with vulnerability and caressed your cheek. Now you knew the truth. You knew just how dangerous he could be, just what lengths he would go to for you.
Your heart thumped wildly in your chest and your mind raced and for a moment it occurred to you to be scared.
Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
You thought about broken knuckles and black eyes, of blood-stained palms and the lingering feeling of dark magic in the air. You heard his voice rattling the panes of the greenhouse with his rage, 'You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it!'
And then that same voice, from the same boy, sweetly, softly ‘No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here. I love you, YN.'
And you thought about the caress of his lips against yours on a stormy night, of his warm arms around you, of the feeling of his calloused hands on your bare skin, and the rumble of his voice in his chest as your head lay on his heart.
"It'll never heal" he said quietly, bringing you back to the present moment. "No magic can fix it. He'll wear that reminder on his skin for the rest of his life."
His chocolate eyes warmed as they looked at you, asking you, one more time, to trust him, to tell him that you understood.
You smiled softly, and traced a finger over his lips and a calm comfort settled over you, a reassurance that no matter what life threw your way, this boy would be standing by your side, that he might burn the world to the ground but would never let a flame touch you, that this was simply how he loved: deep, sincere, serious and unrelenting.
“I love you” you whispered in reassurance before leaning in to press the sweetest kiss to his lips that melted his heart and proved to him that every sin he committed along the way would always be worth it, for you.
Where Mattheo certainty didn't expect you of all people to open the door.
Mattheo riddle x reader. Fluff!!
It was a typical Friday evening at Hogwarts, Marking the end of a busy week for everyone. Mattheo, Theodore, and Lorenzo were lounging in the Slytherin common room, bored out of their minds.
“Alright, I’ve got an idea,” Mattheo said with a smirk.
“What are you scheming now? Mattheo” Theodore asked, already suspicious.
Mattheo chuckled, tossing a ball of paper he had folded up after fucking up his notes in charms and spilling ink over it. “You know that Muggle TikTok thing? Where a guy stands in front of a girl’s door, knocks, and someone throws a ball just in time for him to catch it and be all suave? I say we do it.”
Lorenzo laughed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Come on, you can’t tell me this won’t be fun. Besides, it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do.”
Theodore sighed but couldn’t hide his grin. “Alright, I’m in. Who’s the target?”
Mattheo’s eyes gleamed. “Let’s just start with Pansy’s dorm.”
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “You're sure about that?”
Mattheo just shrugged, unbothered. “What could go wrong?”
The three of them made their way to the girls' dormitory, carefully slipping past a prefect who knew better than to stop them at this point. They reached Pansy’s door, and Mattheo took his place in front of it. Theodore held the ball, and Lorenzo stood a little to the side, ready to jump in if the ball Theo throws suddenly changed paths.
Mattheo knocked on the door, face completely calm as if this was the most normal thing in the world. They could hear what they assumed to be Pansy’s footsteps approaching, the door creaking open just a crack.
But instead of Pansy, you stood there.
You had been hanging out in Pansy's dorm, just chatting and relaxing after the hectic week you all had, completely unaware of the chaos awaiting you on the other side of the door. The moment you appeared, everything froze.
Theo, ready to throw, panicked slightly spotting you first. His throw went way off course and slammed directly into Mattheo's chest instead of near his head where his hands were cupped to catch. Mattheo winced, muttering a low "bloody hell" under his breath as the ball rolled off his chest. He quickly scrambled to grab it, hoping to salvage the moment.
Despite the mishap, Mattheo was determined to play it cool. He turned around, ball in hand, and prepared to deliver the line but then he saw you.
His breath caught in his throat. Instead of Pansy’s usual sarcastic smirk or dismissive eye roll, he was greeted by your soft, curious expression. For a moment, Mattheo’s mind went blank. You stood there, looking effortlessly radiant in the dim hallway light, and all of his usual confidence seemed to fade away.
You blinked at him, clearly confused but amused. A small, awkward smile played on your lips, as if you were trying to figure out what exactly was going on but found the whole thing oddly funny.
Mattheo stared for a moment too long, the ball still clutched in his hand as he tried to remember what he was supposed to say. His heart pounded in his chest, not because of the ball that had just hit him, but because he wasn’t expecting you to be the one opening the door.
Finally, he managed to find his voice, but it wasn’t the smooth, cocky tone he was aiming for. “Uh… are you ladies alright?”
It came out awkwardly, almost like a question he wasn’t even sure of himself.
You couldn’t help but laugh softly, biting your lip to hold back more giggles. Your reaction made the whole situation even more endearing, and Mattheo felt his cheeks heat up, though he'd never admit it.
After a brief moment of awkward silence, you gave him a warm, amused smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah… we’re alright,” you replied with a chuckle, not really knowing what else to say. You shot a final glance at the trio behind him and then gently closed the door.
As soon as the door clicked shut, there was a beat of silence before Lorenzo and Theo erupted into laughter. Lorenzo clutched his stomach, practically howling. “Oh, Merlin Mattheo, you were speechless! Absolutely speechless!”
Theo wiped a fake tear from his eye, grinning wickedly. “You should’ve seen your face! All that attitude gone the moment you saw her. You looked like a lost puppy.”
Mattheo’s ears turned red as he glared at his two friends. “Shut up,” he muttered darkly, still gripping the ball in his hand as if it were Theo’s head he wanted to crush. “You’re the one who can’t throw for shit.”
“Oh, blame it on the throw, sure. But we all saw what really happened,” Theo teased, nudging Lorenzo. “Man gets taken down by a pretty girl. Never thought I’d see the day.”
Mattheo clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the flustered feeling creeping up his stoamch. “I’d worry about your Quidditch skills if I were you, Theo. Chaser with an arm like that? Surprised you haven’t been benched.”
Theo only laughed harder. “Mate, I don’t think Quidditch is the real problem here.”
Lorenzo, still grinning from ear to ear, slapped Mattheo on the back. “Hey, don’t worry, Riddle. It seems like you've finally met someone who knows how to make you shut the fuck up for once”
Mattheo glowered at both of them, but deep down, his mind was still replaying the way you had smiled at him before closing the door.
Even if he’d never admit it out loud, he knew he was in trouble.
Lorenzo Berkshire was going absolutely insane. What had he been thinking? Oh wait, he hadn’t been. It was a stupid bet. A drunken lapse in judgement that now had his head spinning in circles months later. He thought it should’ve been simple. The whole premise of it was after all.
You could write or draw almost anything on your skin, and it would appear on your soulmate as well. A rather nifty bit of magic, Lorenzo had thought. Probably saved a lot of folk a fair bit of heartbreak over the centuries. There were limits of course. No names. No specific locations or such. Fate couldn’t make it too easy. But still, knowing there was someone out there you were meant to be with, and having a way to find them? Lorenzo found the whole thing to be quite convenient.
And he was so close. He was certain they went to Hogwarts. There were too many coincidences for them not to. The puffapod plant that first week. The hippogriff that had appeared on his forearm the same week Hagrid had brought that beast to the school. It all lined up. A little broom and quaffle on the back of his hand for Slytherin’s first match of the season. But every time he got close, it felt as if they slipped through his fingers.
And that’s where you came in. His best friend. It hadn’t been any different from any of the other usual common room parties, except perhaps Enz had had one too many drinks. And perhaps he had monologued a bit too extensively about how he just wanted to find his soulmate. What could he say? He was a romantic. It wasn't a crime.
“Give it a rest man. At this point your soulmate probably knows exactly who you are, and you’ve scared them off,” Theo groaned, already sick of Lorenzo’s griping. Only a week into classes and he was at it again with this soulmate nonsense.
“He’s probably just too dense to pick up any of the hints his soulmate has been leaving,” you had replied with a laugh, giving Enz a teasing shove.
He just scoffed, looking down at you nestled comfortably next to him on the sofa.
“Oh, bold words from someone who hasn’t found their soulmate yet either,” Enz had retorted, giving you a light flick to the forehead. You bat his hand away.
“Only because I haven’t actually been looking. I’m sure I’d be able to find them faster than your sorry ass.”
It had only been meant as a joke. You both knew that. You and Enz were constantly throwing light hearted jabs at each other. It was basically the foundation of your friendship at this point. But you were also both competitive.
“Yeah? Is that right? Wanna bet on that one?”
And so it had begun.
Two months. That was how long you’d known Lorenzo Berkshire was your soulmate. Your best friend of all people. Looking back, it was rather embarrassing that it had taken you this long to figure it out, especially with how enthusiastically Lorenzo had been searching the school. All this time it had been staring him in the face. Hidden in plain sight.
You don't know what you had been thinking when you had agreed to make a game of it. Idiotic.
It had all started in the first week back of the new school year; with one little, insignificant slip of parchment that had slid onto your desk during another one of Professor Binns' lethargic lessons. It had been far too early in the morning to be listening to the ghost ramble on about yet another goblin rebellion. And at this point, they were all beginning to blend together anyway. Eager for the distraction, you uncurled the small note to find a simple 'good morning sunshine' with a crudely drawn heart next to it. Seeing it had scratched a certain part of your brain, but you couldn't quite put a finger on it at the time. Looking up, Lorenzo had offered a little wave paired with his signature, self satisfied smirk.
It wasn't until the next morning that the pieces slowly began to fall into place. Like every other morning, you awoke to a simple 'good morning' scrawled on the back of your hand with a little heart. Things between you and your soulmate had always been simplistic in your opinion, so you had never bothered to put much thought to it, but now it looked oddly familiar. The itch returned, and you strained to think why this silly little message from your soulmate suddenly felt so familiar.
And that's when it had hit you.
Scrambling now, you dug the note from Lorenzo out of you bag, eyes analyzing each bend and curve of the letters. Identical. How had you been so blind? How many times had you seen Lorenzo’s writing? How many times had you borrowed his notes? Reviewed his essays? Read his letters over summer break?
Sitting back on your bed, your thoughts were running a mile a minute, mulling over what to do with your latest development. You didn't want to believe it. Or maybe you did. Actually, it was more like you couldn't believe it. Did you tell him now? Or ignore it and pretend to be none the wiser? Perhaps fake your death, change your name, and flee the country?
No, you decided. The best course of action was to let him figure it out on his own. (At least that’s what you had thought at the time. Two months in and you weren’t entirely sure you’d made the wisest decision.) But he’d been searching all this time after all. And it just didn't feel like the right time. What if he didn't want you? Clearly it hadn't crossed his mind since in all his years of searching, he'd never once looked at you.
He seemed to want something grand, and perfect, and well, magical. And that just wasn't this.
Closing your eyes, you shake your head to clear your thoughts. Game face. None of that was important right now. The important thing, was that Lorenzo was your soulmate and he was your best friend, and what kind of friend would you be if you didn't make him suffer a bit?
“Look, look, see this? They have to be here,” Lorenzo says excitedly, brandishing his forearm out for you to see a bright pink and purple puffapod smack in the middle, mirroring your own that had been doodled there this morning.
“Wow Enz, a plant. Riveting,” you reply, making your way over to your seat in the greenhouse.
It had been your first drawing to the boy since your little bet a week ago, and you had heard from Theo that Enz had practically been glowing since its appearance.
“Not just any plant, sunshine. A puffapod, which is the plant Sprout said we’d be covering today in class. So clearly, my soulmate is telling me they’ll be here today.”
“An astute observation Berkshire, just one tiny issue. There are classes all bloody day. Who’s to say they’ll be in this class in particular?” You sigh, pulling out your notes.
Look. It’s not as if you wanted to intentionally mislead your friend, but really? No wonder he hadn’t gotten anywhere in his soulmate search, despite it being top of mind each year. If he wanted to know so badly, it wouldn't kill him to put in some work you thought.
Lorenzo groans at your point, his pretty face scrunching up in annoyance as he pulls his sleeve back down.
"I just think that when I see them, I'll know. I'll get the feeling. I just have to keep looking," Lorenzo replies, looking around the class at the other students, studying each face carefully.
"What if they don't want to be found?"
Enzo pauses, your question seeming to mull through his head for a moment before he shakes his head, brushing it off.
“Fine then, how’s your search going? I reckon you haven’t found anything or I wouldn’t be hearing the end of it.”
“That’s confidential I fear,” you reply with a grin, “Wouldn’t want you to sabotage me now, would I?”
A cocky smile returns to Enzo’s face.
“You wound me, sunshine! I would never!” He says dramatically, feigning a knife to the heart.
“Yikes, maybe Theo was right. Maybe you’re scaring your soulmate off with, whatever that was,” you laugh.
“Hush, you. You love it almost as much as you love me,” he replies smugly as you raise a disdainful eyebrow, side eyeing the boy.
"Careful there lover boy, or someone might think-"
Before you can finish your sentence, Professor Sprout bustles into the greenhouse, a cart of brightly colored plants following in her wake.
"It's a wonderful, beautiful day to learn about Puffapods!" she chirps happily, levitating a plant to each student's workbench. "Roll up those sleeves dearies! It's going to be a messy day!"
You feel Lorenzo's curious eyes on you when you don't make a move to roll up the sleeves of your shirt.
"A little dirt never hurt anyone," you say through a tight lipped smile, the drawing on your arm burning a hole through your heart.
Well this sucked. You'd have thought Draco would have learned his lesson after the first time a hippogriff sent him to the hospital wing, but apparently some things never changed.
"Your father will be hearing about this one," Lorenzo groans from his hospital bed, a cold pack pressed to his temple as he glared at the blonde boy in the next bed over.
"It wasn't my fault! If Hagrid just kept those bloody beasts away from me-"
"It was entirely your fault! You provoked that hippogriff for no reason! It was literally just sitting there minding its business!" you cut in, sitting up in your own hospital bed now to scowl at your friend.
Draco, despite being the cause for this whole mess, wasn't even the one with the brunt of the injuries. Just a few scratches and bruises. Enzo on the other hand, had taken a hoof to the head as he tried to pull you out of the way of the rearing beast. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to save your wrist which was now broken, but it was better than being crushed alive.
"I didn't like the way it was looking at me," Draco grumbles defensively in response.
Oh when you got your hands on the little ferret-
Lucky for him, Madam Pomfrey chose just that moment to burst back through the doors of the hospital wing, tutting at her three newest charges.
"Alright Mr. Malfoy, you can go," she says, giving him a quick glance over before making her way over to Lorenzo to examine the side of his head where he had been kicked.
"Are you sure? I hurt everywhere," Draco whines.
"Mr. Malfoy you are perfectly well, and I have others to look after," Madam Pomfrey replies, dismissing the boy.
Draco lets out a dramatic huff before limping his way out of the infirmary.
"That boy," you hear her mutter under her breath before handing Lorenzo a vial of glimmering red liquid. "Sip of this twice a day until it's gone," she instructs. "Now off with you as well."
Lorenzo glances over at you.
"They gonna be alright?" He asks, taking the vial.
"Oh y/l/n will be fine. Bit of skele-gro and they'll be good as new. Now off you go. They need rest."
Hesitantly, Lorenzo gets up, wincing slightly, before making his way over to you.
"Sorry about your wrist, I didn't- I tried to-"
"It's alright Enz," you interrupt, trying to give the boy a reassuring smile. It comes out as more of a grimace though. "You got me out of there and that's what matters. Thank you."
Lorenzo gives you a weak smile and a short nod before turning to leave.
"Alright then, a bit of this and you should be out by morning," Madam Pomfrey says, bringing another vial over to the bed. "As long as the bones grow back correctly of course."
Salazar help you.
You can feel the sunlight on you before you open your eyes. It had been a long and rough night. Who knew re-growing your own bones would be that painful? Slowly, you let your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the light, only to be met with piercing eyes staring down at you.
"Bloody hell Theo," you yelp, jolting awake.
"Interesting sketch you got there," he says, cutting to the chase as he gestures to your arm.
You feel yourself freeze for a split second before you look down at the outline of a hippogriff you had drawn last night. There weren't exactly lots of things to do while Madam Pomfrey was holding you hostage in the hospital wing.
"Enz has pretty much interrogated everyone in your care of magical creatures class. Even Draco."
"Please don't tell him," you whisper, looking down.
"How long have you known?"
"Few days before we made that stupid bet," you reply, head falling back onto your pillow.
"That was almost two months ago."
"I know."
You hear Theo sigh. He's sitting now, bent over, face pressed into his hands when you finally look over.
"It's not my business," he says after an agonizingly long moment, "But don't hurt him. This is what he's wanted since we were kids-"
"I don't want to disappoint him."
You hear Theo let out another long sigh. Then a frustrated groan before he looks back up at you.
"Look. I'm not good at the whole supportiveness thing, but Enzo would never be disappointed. You don't see- Enz adores you okay? He's been a wreck since he left you up here all alone. Sent me up here to check on you because he's too busy baking you apology cookies with the house elves. So just- I don't know, think about it. You two are practically inseparable anyways."
You're almost too stunned to speak. You'd never heard Theo actually sound sincere before. It was weird.
"I- thanks Theo," you say finally.
"Don't mention it. Like actually don't. That was weirdly emotional, and I hated it. Also- try to act surprised when Enz brings you his apology cookies, I don't think I was supposed to say anything about that."
And with that, Theo is gone, leaving his words echoing through your head as you drift back off to sleep.
"This is the day, I can feel it," Enzo announces, pulling on his dark green quidditch robes.
"Bull. You've been saying that shit for years. Focus up Enz," Matt replies. They had a match to win.
"No, no, this time, I have a list. All the possibilities between herbology and care of magical creatures! And there's this," Lorenzo says excitedly, showing off the brooms and quaffle that were dancing across the back of his hand. "They'll be here today. Certain of it."
"You're always certain. Now get you're head in the game, I wanna win," Theo responds gruffly, not quite able to meet Enzo's eyes.
"Fine, I'll shut up, but you'll see," Lorenzo relents, tossing his hands up in surrender.
It had been a brutal game. One they had almost lost to those bloody Gryffindors. They would've been doomed if they hadn't built up such a lead from scoring before Potter caught the damned snitch. That was the only silver lining for the lions. Draco had almost had it too.
"You have a good time, sunshine?" Enz asks, sauntering over to you after the game.
"Watching a bunch of sweaty witches and wizards fly around for a couple hours? Hardly," you tease as the boy wraps you into a bear hug.
“Can’t believe we almost lost to those bloody lions,” Lorenzo mumbles into your hair.
“Hush, you played great,” you reply, your words muffled from being smothered by the brunette boy.
“I did, didn’t I?” Enz says with a cocky grin, finally releasing you.
You continue to talk with your best friend, but it quickly becomes clear that his mind is elsewhere as his eyes flicker between you and scanning the slowly dwindling crowd behind you.
“Looking for someone?” You ask curiously, turning to see what could have possibly caught Lorenzo’s attention.
“No! Well, I don’t know. Maybe? I just thought- I was certain…” Lorenzo trails off, eyes still searching the crowd desperately.
“This about your soulmate?” You ask, reaching out to hold the boy’s arm.
Lorenzo looks down at you and you can see the hurt on his face. There’s a pang of guilt in your chest as you meet his eyes.
“I don’t know what I thought. That they’d make some kind of gesture? That they’d come see me after if we won? Stupid. They have to know it’s me though,” Lorenzo lets out a long sigh. “Sorry sunshine, you’re probably as sick as everyone else of me going on about all this,” he says, running a hand through his tousled hair.
You open your mouth to protest, but before you get the chance Lorenzo presses a quick kiss to the top of your head before turning towards the Slytherin locker room.
“See you tonight sunshine.”
Your eyes follow as he walks away, feet dragging. From over Lorenzo’s shoulder, you can see Theo standing in the doorway of the locker room, eyes drilling into you. He doesn’t say anything, but the message is clear. You needed to tell him.
It was late. Even through the shadowy, murky waters of the black lake, you could tell that the sky outside was dark. And yet, the Slytherin common room was brimming with life, students still riding the high of the win against Gryffindor.
“Someone’s deep in thought,” Pansy comments dryly, placing a cup of amber liquid in your hands and giving you a small nod before tipping back her own drink.
“Just tired is all,” you reply lamely, swirling your glass for a moment before taking a sip yourself.
The familiar burn is barely noticeable as you already had a healthy buzz going. You didn’t even want to imagine what kind of condition the boys were in. They always went all in after a win, and a win against the lions was always a promise for a particularly rowdy night.
As if your thoughts had summoned them, Enzo, Theo and Matt push (read: stumble) their way through the crowd, joining you and Pansy in your secluded corner.
“Hey there sunshine, fancy seeing you here,” Lorenzo drawls, pulling you into a tight hug as soon as he spots you. You can smell the bitter scent of alcohol on him.
“Salazar, you’d think they were his soulmate the way Enz throws himself at them constantly,” Pansy mutters under her breath to Theo who just grunts back, a masterful plan beginning to form in his drunken mind.
Theo had been watching the two of you, you and Lorenzo that is, since that day in the hospital wing. The way you two were attached at the hip, yet constantly skirting around one another. But always in your own world together. Honestly he had no idea how Enz hadn’t figured it out yet. And really, he didn’t see why Enz even cared given the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you.
Regardless, it was beginning to be unbearable. Combining your skittishness and guilty looks with Enzo’s near constant pining, Theo and the rest of the group were about to lose their damn minds. It needed to end tonight, and Theo was bound and determined to make it happen.
It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to the topic of soulmates.
Drunk Mattheo had always been such an instigator. Even without Theo egging him on this time.
And he just so happened to remember that silly little bet you’d made all those weeks ago at the beginning of term.
“We all know Enz has come up empty handed, what about you, y/n? Anything you want to share with the class?” Mattheo asks, his usual troublesome grin plastered across his face.
“Shove it, Matt,” you snap, trying to hide behind your cup as you take another long sip.
“I’ll take that as a solid maybe,” Matt replies with a cheerful smile, raising his glass condescendingly.
“Fuck the whole soulmate bit, honestly. I’m sick of whatever game my soulmate is playing,” Lorenzo blurts out, shocking the group to near silence.
For as long as you’d all known him, he’d been a bit of a hopeless romantic. Maybe even to a fault. None of you had ever thought he’d be one to give up on his soulmate.
“Well,” Theo drawls after everyone has recovered, “There’s always one way to find out if they’re here at Hogwarts or not.”
Your eyes snap to the Italian, silently trying to figure out what the boy is playing at. Lorenzo leans towards his friend, swaying slightly as you try to steady him. Clearly having the group’s attention, with a quick flick of his wand, Theo is brandishing a simple black marker. Your eyes go wide, knowing exactly where this is going.
“C’mere Enz,” Theo says, beckoning your friend forward.
As if under the imperious curse, Lorenzo lurches forward despite your protest.
“Really Theo?” You ask, trying to at least buy a few seconds as Theo moves the marker to hover in front of Lorenzo’s face. “You’re honestly going to trust Theo of all people to draw on your face Enz?”
It’s too late as you watch, helplessly, as Theo makes a few quick scribbles across Enzo’s cheek before vanishing the writing tool. For a moment, everyone is too focused on the crude doodle on Enzo’s face to notice your hand rising to touch the matching ink.
“Really Theo? Immature prat, that’s phallic,” Pansy sighs rolling her eyes, not really seeming all that surprised by the boy’s antics.
It’s not until Enzo’s eyes lock with yours that the whole group fully grasps the reality of the situation. Pansy’s mouth forms a silent ‘o’, while Matt hardly seems surprised, more concerned with refilling his drink.
“What the fuck Theodore!” You shriek, lunging at the boy once you fully zero in on the black lines on Enzo’s face which were mirrored on your own.
Lorenzo stands, too drunk and too stunned as Pansy and Matt half-heartedly try to keep you from sending the killing curse Theo’s way.
“I think it’s time you and Enz have a chat, priorities and all,” Pansy says, prying you away from Theo as Matt leads the other boy off, their drunken laughter trailing away. "I'll make sure their dorm is empty for the night." The dark haired girl gives you a pointed look before she too disappears into the crowd, assumedly to find the other boys.
Taking a deep breath in, you turn to see Lorenzo looking at you like a kicked puppy, the stark outlines of the dick Theo had drawn on his face sticking out rather harshly.
"C'mon Enz, let's get cleaned up. I don't think either of us want to have this conversation with a penis drawn on our faces."
As soon as you step into the empty dormitory, a quick scourgify wipes the offending mark from Lorenzo's skin as you take a seat on his bed, but your friend just continues to stare at you from the door.
"You knew. You knew I was your soulmate and you didn't tell me," he says with a shakey breath. "You knew. And you said nothing." he says, his voice getting louder as his fists clench.
You try not to flinch away at Lorenzo's raised voice, but the look in your friend's eyes and the way he immediately collects himself tells you that you didn't do a very good job.
"I can explain. Enz, please, just let me explain," you beg, hating the hurt that was written all over the boy's face.
Lorenzo gestures for you to continue, but his feet remain planted firmly in place on the opposite side of the room. You supposed you deserved that though.
"Look, it- it all started back in the first week of school, when you passed me that note, in History of Magic," you start.
Lorenzo shifts where he's standing.
"That was before we even made that stupid bet. You knew before and you still let me make that stupid bet. Like an idiot." Lorenzo begins pacing around the room. "And did Theo know then too? Did everyone know but me?"
"No, it's not like that. You're not an idiot," you try to protest.
"Yeah? Then what is it like? Because to me, it seems like my best fucking friends have been lying to me for months. Bloody hell, all I've wanted for years was to find my soulmate. And you both knew that. So what was it? Was I not the one you wanted? Not good enough for you? Huh? Is that it?"
Before you can think twice, you find yourself across the room, reaching up to take a fist full of Lorenzo's hair and pulling his lips down to meet yours. The boy melts into you, hands finding their way to your waist as his fingers dig into your skin. His lips are warm as soft as they move against yours with agency, as if afraid you'll change your mind at any moment.
When you finally pull back, Lorenzo rests his forehead against yours, his breathes slowly steadying before he raises a finger between you two.
"No," he whispers, his voice raspy, "No, you don't get to just kiss me and make everything better, tell me why," he demands, pulling you down to sit with him on the floor.
"Well I was trying, but you kept interrupting me," you say, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "Um, when I first found out, I was just planning on teasing you a bit, having some fun with it you know?"
Lorenzo's eyes bore into yours as he traces circles on your leg, waiting for you to continue.
"But then, I suppose I got scared. You'd been looking for your soulmate for so long. And from all the times you'd talked about it, I knew you wanted some grand, special moment. It just never felt like the perfect time to tell you. Theo didn't find out until last week when he visited me in the hospital wing, by your request I might add, and told me I should tell you. Gave me a long inspirational speech about how I wouldn't disappoint you and everything. It was really strange actually. So then I was going to tell you today after your match-"
"And I blew it looking for someone else didn't I?" Lorenzo cuts in with a dry laugh.
"Just seemed like you were hoping it would be anyone but me."
Lorenzo takes your hands in his, slowly raising them to his lips before pressing a soft kiss to each knuckle.
"You, sunshine, are perfect. And I wouldn't want it to have been anyone else," he murmurs.
"Salazar, we're both a couple of idiots, aren't we?" you ask shaking your head, feeling the heat rise to your face.
"Course not, we're just soulmates," Lorenzo replies, standing up and offering you a hand. "Now, I seem to remember Pansy mentioning that she would make sure the others don't come back to the dormitory. She better be good for her word, because you sunshine, are mine for tonight. And forever."
Gahhhhh, it's fine, I only rewrote the entire thing once, but now I love it🤍
Hope this lived up to all your hopes and dreams anon, MWAH
𝓁𝑜𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓈! i am so honored and excited to celebrate this milestone with you all. i adore this fandom and love love love sharing my writing here ♡ we're surrounded by so much amazing talent and i'd love to celebrate by shining a light on it!!
i've asked my mutuals to share (1) the favorite fic they've ever written (2) the favorite fic they've ever read and now we can all savor these amazing stories together!!
thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart my dears! ♡
☆ - writer's favorite / ☼ - 18+ mdni
draco malfoy
you poor thing by @ameliasbitvh
the strangest of places by @draco-dormiens ☆
go ahead and cry little girl by @draco-malfoys-lovergirl ☆
made with love by @fatesundress
draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare on ao3 ☼
where's the trophy? by @loving-daisy
our missing piece by @sectumsempraaa
lorenzo berkshire
things i'll never say by @amongemeraldclouds ☆
finding sunshine by @obsessedwithceleste
best friend enzo who is a little manipulative by @prythiansprincess ☼
when enzo smiles that sweet smile of his by @suugarbabe ☆
mattheo riddle
'til we turn to bone by @acourtofchaos ☼
is the lady alright? by @allurearia
beauty and the beast
bloodlines by @cipheress-to-k-pop ☆
so it goes by @dreamcubed ☼
brewing hope
the missing piece by @girllblogging777 ☆
beg for me by @iniquitousyearning ☼
i can't. we shouldn't
red roses by @littlebookbengal ☆
wicked game by @lushleona ☆☼
scribbles by @mattiesgf ☆
rumors by @nottriddlethis ☆☼
burning up by @nottswitch ☆☼
carousel ☼
she will be loved by @pizzaapeteer ☆
cold comfort
dove ☆
obliviate
the black lake
the playlist
veritaserum by @redeemingvillains
wuthering heights by @riddlesrizzler ☆
devil's advocate ☆
tainted touch by @simp-for-love ☼
arabella by @sunkissedscribbles ☆
dirty dreams by @ur-local-wizard ☆☼
endgame ☆
the game by @wordsarelife
regulus black
prends ma main by @acourtofchaos ☆
theodore nott
only me ☆
peonies by @amiableness
the one with the runaway bride by @cipheress-to-k-pop
fogged up glasses by @iamgonnagetyouback ☆
reopened wounds by @lov3notts ☆
just to stop the feeling by @musingsofahufflepuff
impatient ☼
sweet relief by @nottsangel ☆☼
love lies by @obsessedwithceleste ☆
mother's eyes by @pizzaapeteer
kiss with a fist by @prythiansprincess ☆
when you know, you know @theosang3ls ☆
voodoo doll by @voidsxntry
tom riddle
prisoner 394 ☼
so pretty when you c** for me by @riddleswhcre ☆☼
in his fangs ☼
perfect little doll ☆☼
tulips and kisses by @viperify ☼
HelIoo, can I request A Muggle reader and Theodore? One day the boys, or only him, decide to go to the Muggle world to explore, and Theo falls in love with a girl??
My Wizard Boyfriend
Pairing: Theodore Nott x Muggle Reader
Summary: Theodore only meant to watch a Spider-Man movie in the muggle world, until he met you. Between comic book discussions and milkshake dates, you both fell in love. When you finally found out he was a wizard… you realised you were dating a real-life Doctor Strange.
Warnings: Nothing! Fluffy flustered Theo!
A/N: I COMBINED MARVEL AND HARRY POTTER I'M SO HAPPY! Thanks for the request @justpaucaro!
Masterlist
————————————————————————
Lorenzo wanted to see some ridiculous film about a boy who got bitten by a radioactive spider.
Muggles were absolutely mad.
Who looked at a spider and thought, You know what? That should give someone superpowers.
And then, somehow, turned that idea into a bestselling comic.
And then into a film.
Theodore remained thoroughly unconvinced.
Still...
He couldn't deny he was curious.
As a pure-blood, he'd never spent any real time in the Muggle world. His father had always dismissed Muggles as beneath them-people who stumbled through life without magic, relying on crude inventions to compensate.
"They're uncomfortable," Mattheo muttered, tugging irritably at the waistband of his jeans.
"They're called clothes, Mattheo," Lorenzo replied with an exaggerated sigh. "And we're wearing them so we blend in. Now hurry up-the cinema's this way."
He strode confidently down the pavement, clearly the only one who knew where he was going.
Theo, Mattheo, Draco and Blaise followed behind, each looking varying degrees of unimpressed.
Theo's attention wandered.
Everything around him felt strangely fascinating.
Cars rushed past in neat rows, lights flashing as they disappeared into the distance.
He watched one disappear around a corner.
"They built all of this without magic," he murmured.
Mattheo snorted.
"They don't even have Floo Powder."
"They use aeroplanes instead," Lorenzo said over his shoulder. "Massive metal things that fly through the sky."
"Takes hours," Mattheo added dramatically.
"What an appalling way to travel," Draco scoffed.
Blaise glanced sideways at him.
"Really?"
Draco folded his arms.
"Yes."
"So what does Granger think about your opinion of Muggles?"
Draco's ears immediately turned pink.
"Oh, shut up."
Blaise burst into laughter while Theo quietly tuned them out, taking in the unfamiliar streets instead.
There were no enchanted shop windows.
No owls overhead.
No witches bustling between cafés.
Everything was different.
Oddly...
He didn't dislike it.
The cinema was crowded.
People milled around the lobby wearing bright red shirts decorated with black webs and enormous white eyes.
Theo frowned.
"They seem awfully committed to this spider boy."
Lorenzo pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Spider-Man."
Theo looked at him.
"How is he a man if he's only seventeen?"
"It's a superhero film, Nott."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It's not supposed to."
Theo hummed thoughtfully.
"Poor writing."
Lorenzo stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head.
"I'm buying the tickets."
He pointed a warning finger at the group.
"Do not wander off."
He disappeared towards the ticket counter, leaving the others standing in the middle of the lobby.
Mattheo had already started arguing with Draco over something called popcorn.
"I refuse to spend eight pounds on corn," Draco declared.
"It's not just corn," Lorenzo called back from the queue.
"It's an experience."
"It's corn."
"It's popcorn."
Theo decided he wanted no part in whatever argument that was.
Instead, he slipped his hands into the pockets of the borrowed jacket Lorenzo had insisted he wear and looked around.
The place was loud.
People laughed.
Children ran past with oversized drinks.
Music drifted from unseen speakers overhead.
No one glanced at anyone else.
No one cared who came from an old family.
No one whispered about blood status.
For the first time in a long while...
Everything felt wonderfully ordinary.
Someone suddenly collided with him.
"Oh my God-I'm so sorry!"
A stack of paper cups slipped from your arms.
Before they could hit the floor, Theo instinctively caught them.
You blinked up at him.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then you laughed.
"You've got amazing reflexes."
You carefully took the cups back.
"My manager would've killed me if I'd dropped those."
Theo frowned slightly.
"...Killed you?"
You tilted your head.
"...From my job?"
Right.
Muggles worked.
Even teenagers.
He cleared his throat.
"Of course."
You smiled politely, apparently assuming he'd been joking.
"You guys here for Spider-Man?"
Theo opened his mouth.
"...I..."
Nothing came out.
His mind had gone completely blank.
Behind him, Mattheo snorted.
"He doesn't know what Spider-Man is."
Theo shot him an unimpressed look.
"I do."
"No, you don't."
"I absolutely do."
"You literally just called him Spider-Boy."
Theo chose not to dignify that with a response.
You laughed so hard you had to cover your mouth.
"Wait..."
Your eyes widened.
"You seriously don't know Spider-Man?"
Theo remained silent.
"...Do you at least know Marvel?"
"...Marvel?"
You looked genuinely horrified.
"You don't know Marvel?"
Theo had the distinct feeling he'd somehow failed a test he hadn't realised he was taking.
"What exactly did you watch growing up?" you asked dramatically.
"Your parents should be arrested."
Theo blinked.
"...Arrested?"
"For depriving you of the greatest superhero franchise ever created."
"I..."
He glanced helplessly towards Lorenzo.
"...don't know what that means."
"Oh, wow."
You pressed a hand to your chest as though personally wounded.
"Okay."
You thought for a moment before reaching into your pocket.
"I work at a comic book shop after this shift."
Theo frowned.
"...A what?"
"A comic shop."
You paused.
"...Actually, explaining it won't help."
Pulling out a receipt, you scribbled an address on the back before handing it to him.
"Come by later."
Theo looked down at the paper.
"I'll educate you."
He looked back at you.
"You don't even know me."
You shrugged.
"I know enough."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You've somehow survived seventeen years without Marvel."
A grin spread across your face.
"That's a problem I can fix."
Someone called your name from behind the concession stand.
You glanced over your shoulder.
"Coming!"
Looking back at Theo, you smiled apologetically.
"Sorry-I have to get back to work."
You started walking away before turning around again.
"Oh!"
"And bring money."
Then you disappeared behind the counter.
Theo stared after you for a moment before carefully folding the receipt and slipping it into his jacket pocket.
Mattheo noticed immediately.
"...You're actually thinking about going?"
Theo looked at him.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"You spent the entire walk here complaining about this film."
"I was complaining about the premise."
"And now?"
Theo glanced towards the counter where you'd vanished.
"...Now it seems educational."
Mattheo barked out a laugh.
"Oh, Merlin."
"You fancy her."
Theo frowned.
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
"I simply wish to understand this... Marvel."
"Sure."
Mattheo grinned.
"And I'm Head Boy."
Theo ignored him and turned towards Lorenzo, who had finally returned carrying an absurdly large bucket of popcorn.
"I need you to come somewhere with me after the film."
Lorenzo looked up.
"...Why?"
Theo hesitated for half a second.
"You know more about... Marvel."
A slow grin spread across Lorenzo's face.
"...Oh."
Theo narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing."
The grin only grew wider.
"You just happen to need me because I know about superheroes."
"I need someone capable of explaining them."
"Mhm."
"And," Theo added reluctantly, "you have Muggle money."
"Mhm."
Mattheo doubled over laughing.
"Nott, you're unbelievable."
Theo looked genuinely offended.
"I don't get what's so funny"
"You've spoken to one girl for five minutes and suddenly you're voluntarily visiting a comic book shop."
Theo folded his arms.
"It is an educational trip."
"It is absolutely not."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
By the time the film ended, Theo was already halfway to the exit.
He barely waited for the credits to finish before unfolding the receipt from his jacket pocket.
Mattheo noticed immediately.
"Someone's eager."
"I merely said we'd go."
"You also stood up before the post-credit scene."
Theo frowned.
"...The what?"
Lorenzo gasped in horror.
"You left before the post-credit scene?"
"I've never watched a Marvel film before. How was I supposed to know there was another scene?"
Lorenzo sighed dramatically.
"I've failed you already."
Theo ignored him and continued walking.
A few streets later, a small shop came into view.
The display window was packed with colourful comics, superhero figurines, posters and memorabilia. Every inch seemed covered in bright reds, blues and golds.
Nothing like Flourish and Blotts.
A little bell chimed as they stepped inside.
Theo's eyes wandered across the shelves.
Hundreds of books.
Not one looked ancient.
No leather bindings.
No gilded pages.
No magical ink.
Just impossibly colourful covers filled with people flying through the sky.
"Welcome in!"
Theo looked up.
You were standing behind the till, your hair now tied into two messy space buns. Gone was the red cinema uniform. Instead, you wore a faded black T-shirt with what looked like an angry raccoon holding a gun beside an oddly cheerful tree.
The shirt somehow suited you.
The moment your eyes landed on him, your face lit up.
"You actually came!"
"I said I would."
"I honestly thought you were just being polite."
Before Theo could answer, you hurried around the counter.
"You've got excellent timing. It's completely dead in here."
Your eyes shifted to Lorenzo.
Then back to Theo.
"...Is he your emotional support friend?"
Lorenzo laughed.
"No."
Theo looked offended.
"He came because he knows more about Marvel than I do."
"I was dragged."
"I distinctly remember asking."
"You guilt-tripped me."
"I did not."
You waved a dismissive hand.
"Whatever the reason, you're both here."
You clapped your hands together.
"Right."
"Lesson one."
Without warning, you caught Theo's wrist.
"This way."
Theo stiffened almost imperceptibly.
He wasn't accustomed to people touching him so casually.
Especially not people he'd known for less than a day.
Still...
He didn't pull away.
You led him towards an entire wall labelled MARVEL, finally stopping in front of rows upon rows of comics.
"So," you said, folding your arms, "rule number one."
"Don't start with the complicated stuff."
You reached up and pulled out a comic.
"Spider-Man."
Another.
"Iron Man."
Another.
"Captain America."
Another.
"And this one."
Theo looked down.
"That is..a lot"
You laughed.
"This?"
You gestured at the shelf.
"This is barely scratching the surface."
Your hand wandered towards another section.
"If you end up liking these, we'll move on to the Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy, X-Men, Fantastic Four-"
"We?"
You blinked innocently.
"Well, obviously."
Theo raised an eyebrow.
"Obviously?"
"You'll need someone to explain everything."
"And that someone is you?"
"Unless you happen to know another Marvel nerd."
"...I don't."
"Exactly."
Theo couldn't quite stop the tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I guess I'll have questions."
You beamed.
"Perfect."
Across the aisle, Lorenzo leaned towards Mattheo.
"He's smiling."
Mattheo looked over.
"...Merlin."
"He actually is."
"And I don't think he even realises it."
Back at the till, you carefully scanned each comic before placing them into a paper bag.
Sliding it across the counter, you smiled.
"When you're done, come back."
Theo picked up the bag.
"And if I don't enjoy them?"
You gasped as though he'd committed a crime.
"You'll enjoy them."
"And if I don't?"
"I'll assume you read them wrong."
Lorenzo snorted loudly.
"I like her."
Ignoring him entirely, you pointed a finger at Theo.
"I'm serious."
"When you finish Spider-Man, I expect a full review."
"A... review?"
"Opinions."
"Lots of opinions."
"You'll quickly discover comic fans never shut up."
Theo looked down at the bag before meeting your eyes again.
"I guess I can manage that."
"I know you can."
By the time Theo returned to Hogwarts that evening, the paper bag was tucked safely beneath his arm.
Mattheo looked over from his bed.
"You are actually going to read those?"
"They were a gift."
"They were homework."
Theo ignored him.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
"Mate."
Mattheo threw a pillow over his face.
"It's one in the morning."
Theo turned another page.
"Hm."
"You've been reading for hours."
"So?"
"So sleep."
Theo didn't answer.
Truthfully...
He still wasn't entirely convinced by Marvel.
How exactly had a spider bite turned a scrawny teenager into a superhero?
And Captain America made even less sense.
One injection and suddenly the man had muscles?
Even Polyjuice Potion didn't work like that.
Still...
You had asked for his opinion.
He refused to disappoint you.
One chapter became another.
Then another.
Without quite noticing, he reached the final page.
"...Well," he murmured to himself.
"...That wasn't that bad."
Two weeks passed.
Theo read every comic twice.
He made mental notes of every question that came to mind.
He memorised character names, storylines and villains.
He even cornered Lorenzo on multiple occasions.
"Why does everyone like Tony Stark so much?"
"Because he's Tony Stark."
"That's hardly an explanation."
"It doesn't need one."
Theo was beginning to suspect Marvel fans were impossible.
Still...
He refused to return looking uninformed.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The bell above the comic shop door chimed.
You looked up from organising a shelf.
"Theodore!"
A smile spread across your face.
"You're back!"
Today your T-shirt featured an enormous grape man wearing golden armour.
Theo decided not to ask.
Not yet.
You leaned across the counter excitedly.
"Well?"
"What did you think?"
"Are you obsessed yet?"
Theo took a measured breath.
"I have... a lot pf thoughts."
Your eyes widened.
"Oh, this is going to be good."
You hurried him towards a small table tucked into the corner of the shop.
"Sit."
He obeyed.
"So?"
You rested your chin in your hands.
"Tell me everything."
Theo began cautiously.
"I enjoyed Spider-Man. A lot"
"I knew it!"
"However..."
"Oh no."
"I don't get why everything thinks Captain America is so perfect."
You stared at him in mock horror.
"Steven Grant Rogers is practically husband material."
Theo frowned thoughtfully.
"...Husband material?"
"The best kind."
"And Tony Stark?"
"Hm."
You pretended to consider it.
"Sugar daddy material."
Theo blinked.
"...Sugar daddy?"
You burst into laughter.
"Exactly."
Theo couldn't help laughing with you.
He still wasn't entirely sure what it meant.
But hearing you laugh made him want to keep asking questions.
By the time you'd enthusiastically explained another dozen Marvel characters, you disappeared between the shelves before returning with yet another stack of comics.
Theo stared at them.
"...More?"
"Oh, we're just getting started."
He sighed dramatically.
"I've spent the last two weeks reading these."
"You survived."
"Barely."
"So dramatic."
He accepted the comics anyway.
Then paused.
"You asked something from me."
"I did."
"And now it's my turn."
You tilted your head curiously.
"Oh?"
Theo nodded towards the café across the street.
"They sell milkshakes."
You narrowed your eyes.
"...Are you asking me out?"
He met your gaze.
"Depends."
"On?"
"Whether you're saying yes."
A grin slowly spread across your face.
"You know..."
You folded your arms.
"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever ask."
Theo blinked.
"You were?"
"You've been looking at me like you wanted to for at least ten minutes."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
He looked away for the briefest second.
"...Maybe once."
You laughed.
"Sure."
"So?"
Theo asked.
"Is that a yes?"
You pretended to think it over.
"Hmm..."
Then you smiled.
"Fine."
"Only because I like your accent."
Theo's answering smile came effortlessly.
"...Lucky me."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Weeks slipped quietly into months.
Somewhere between comic books, milkshakes, and endless debates over superheroes...
Theodore Nott fell in love.
It happened so gradually he never noticed the exact moment.
Maybe it was when he realised he could identify your footsteps before you reached the comic shop door.
Or when he started bringing enough chips because he knew you'd steal half of them despite insisting you weren't hungry.
Or perhaps it was the afternoon you spent nearly twenty minutes trying to rescue a pigeon that had become trapped behind a rubbish bin.
You hadn't succeeded.
But you'd tried anyway.
He'd found that strangely endearing.
He learned that you wore mismatched socks simply because you thought matching ones were "boring."
That you couldn't walk past a bookshop without wandering inside.
That you cried whenever an old dog appeared in a film.
That you somehow knew every song playing on the radio.
That you talked with your hands so enthusiastically he occasionally worried you'd accidentally hit someone in the face.
He always opened doors for you.
Always walked on the side closest to the road.
And no matter how many times you protested...
He never let you pay.
"Theodore."
"No."
"I literally have money."
"I know."
"So let me spend it."
"I don't want you to, cara."
"You are impossible."
"I've been told."
You'd roll your eyes.
Then smile anyway.
He learned your favourite milkshake was chocolate.
That you preferred rainy afternoons over sunny ones.
That you absent-mindedly reached for his hand whenever you crossed a busy road.
At first, holding your hand had made him acutely aware of every brush of your fingers.
Now...
It simply felt natural.
Like it had always belonged there.
The first time he kissed you, the two of you were sitting on a bench overlooking the Thames.
The sun had begun to dip below the skyline, painting the water in streaks of gold and amber.
You'd somehow spent the better part of three hours arguing over whether Superman could defeat Thor.
Theo was firmly convinced the debate had become absurd nearly an hour ago.
You, apparently, disagreed.
"No, listen," you insisted, gesturing wildly. "Thor's literally a god."
"And Superman can fly."
"So?"
"So flying is rather useful."
You laughed.
"I don't think that's how power scaling works."
Theo smiled to himself.
"You've said that phrase six times."
"Because you keep making terrible arguments."
"I believe mine are perfectly reasonable."
"They're objectively wrong."
He chuckled quietly.
The conversation drifted into comfortable silence.
You leaned back against the bench, watching the river.
After a few moments, you looked at him.
"What?"
Theo asked.
You smiled.
"I've turned you into a complete nerd."
"I think you'll find the correct term is well-informed."
"Oh?"
"You assigned me homework."
"I did."
"I just completed it."
You laughed again.
"I can't believe I accidentally converted Theodore Nott into a Marvel fan."
"I wouldn't go that far."
"You absolutely would."
He shook his head.
"I still think the serum is scientifically questionable."
"It's a comic book."
"That changes nothing."
You smiled so brightly it almost made him forget what he'd been saying.
"I like this version of you."
Theo's expression softened.
"So do I."
You blinked.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then, quietly, you reached up and rested your hand against his cheek.
"I'm really glad you walked into that cinema."
Theo smiled.
"I believe you walked into me."
"Details."
He laughed.
Then he kissed you.
It wasn't dramatic.
There were no fireworks.
No sweeping declarations.
Just a gentle, tentative kiss that somehow said everything neither of you quite knew how to put into words.
When he pulled away, you were still smiling.
"What?"
Theo asked.
"You smile differently around me."
He frowned.
"I smile?"
"You do."
"I wasn't aware."
"You get this little..." You pointed to the corner of your own mouth. "...smirk."
"I don't smirk."
"You absolutely do."
"I don't."
"You are literally smirking right now."
Theo let out another quiet laugh.
"I think you're imagining things."
"I'm not."
"You've been staring at me for the past five minutes."
"I'm admiring my boyfriend."
Theo paused.
"...My boyfriend?"
You smiled sheepishly.
"Mhm."
"You've never called me that before."
"I know."
"...Do you not like it?"
He intertwined your fingers with his.
"No."
"I quite like it."
As autumn settled over London, one question continued to resurface.
"So..."
"Hm?"
"What school do you actually go to?"
Theo sighed.
"We're doing this again?"
"You dodge the question every single time."
"I answer."
"You absolutely don't."
"I've told you."
"You tell me you go to Hogwarts."
"Because I do."
You burst into laughter.
"You are so committed to this joke."
Theo rubbed a hand across his face.
"It isn't a joke."
"Mhm."
"My homework genuinely consists of Potions essays."
"I'm sure it does."
"I play Quidditch."
"Naturally."
"Owls deliver my post."
"They're remarkably efficient."
You laughed so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes.
"Oh my God."
"You've expanded the lore."
"The... lore?"
"This whole wizard story."
Theo studied your face.
You looked so utterly convinced he was teasing you that he almost laughed himself.
"I'm serious."
"I know."
"No."
He sighed.
"I'm actually serious."
You smiled fondly.
"I like your stories, Theo."
Something in his chest sank.
He hated lying to you.
Even more, he hated that the truth sounded impossible.
The conversation lingered as the two of you wandered through the evening streets.
Shops were beginning to close.
Streetlights flickered to life overhead.
You were in the middle of telling him about a new comic series when-
A deafening crack split the air.
People screamed.
Theo looked up.
Time seemed to slow.
A section of scaffolding had broken loose from the building above.
It was falling.
Straight towards you.
You hadn't noticed.
You were still looking at him.
Theo didn't think.
His wand was in his hand before he even realised he'd drawn it.
"Protego!"
A shimmering barrier burst into existence.
The scaffolding slammed into it with a deafening crash.
For one impossible heartbeat, it hung suspended in the air.
Then it toppled harmlessly onto the pavement beside you.
Silence.
The screams faded.
People stared.
You slowly turned.
Not towards the wreckage.
Towards Theo.
His arm was still raised.
His wand still pointed forward.
Every trace of colour had drained from his face.
He lowered it slowly.
"...Theo?"
He closed his eyes.
For just a second.
"...I'm sorry."
Your gaze dropped to the wand.
Then to the shattered scaffolding.
Then back to him.
"...You're actually a wizard."
Theo gave the smallest nod.
"I told you."
You stared at him.
Then your eyes widened.
"MY BOYFRIEND IS REAL-LIFE DOCTOR STRANGE!"
Theo blinked.
"...That's your first thought?"
You pointed accusingly at him.
"You've been carrying around actual magic this whole time!"
"Yes."
"And you never thought to lead with that?"
"I did."
"...Fair point."
Theo let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
"Merlin... I tell you I'm a wizard, and the first thing you think is Doctor Strange?"
"In my defence..."
You shrugged.
"...he's the only wizard I know."
Theo smiled-a small, fond smile that was reserved entirely for you.
"Well..."
He gently tugged you closer.
"Now you know two."
————————————————————————
Tag list - @pbjts @bunnieeegohop @mooniez @ithinkaboutyouuu @yourstargirlyyy
Summary: Despite dating, you and Tom never stop competing for the top spot in class. After an exam bet lets the winner choose your first pet, you narrowly beat him-only for your new kitten to choose Tom over you.
Warnings: One suggestive comment, fluff
A/N: I've been thinking about this for a while especially the academic rivals but dating version. Let me know what you think! Requests are open.
Masterlist
————————————————————————
"Can we get him, please?"
You and Tom were walking back to the castle when you passed a pet shop in Hogsmeade.
"Tom, look at that little kitten. He's adorable!"
Tom looked unfazed.
"Cats are unreliable. They leave hair everywhere. If you want a pet, get a snake."
"Tom, snakes are creepy!"
"They're elegant."
"They eat rats."
"So do cats."
You paused.
"Well played. But we're still not getting a snake."
"I'm not letting a cat stay in my dorm."
"But kittens are adorable!"
"No."
You huffed.
"Well, I want a pet."
Tom leaned forward.
"Then how do you suggest we settle this, love?"
You thought for a minute before a mischievous smile spread across your face.
"Whoever scores higher on their midterms gets to pick the pet."
Tom raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile.
"You do realise I scored higher than you in the previous exams?"
"Only by three marks. I could've easily surpassed you if Snape hadn't been so stubborn."
You crossed your arms.
"So, do we have a deal?"
You extended your hand.
"I suppose we do."
He shook your hand before bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles.
"You'd better watch your back, Riddle."
"Looking forward to it, Mrs. Riddle."
"I'm not your wife."
"Yet."
You rolled your eyes.
He smiled.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Midterms rolled around.
You studied your ass off.
You were going to get that kitten.
Unfortunately, you'd fumbled one of the questions in the Potions exam the week before.
And next was Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Tom was brilliant at DADA.
You?
Not so much.
No matter how many times you read the textbook or worked through practice questions, Tom always stayed a few marks ahead of you.
But you weren't about to give him the satisfaction of winning.
His ego did not need to get any bigger.
Just studying wouldn't work this time.
Nothing could distract Tom when it came to his studies.
Nothing...
...except you.
A smile spread across your face as a plan formed in your mind.
You pushed yourself away from your desk and stood in front of your mirror.
You brushed your hair and wore it down-the way Tom liked it-sprayed on your favourite perfume, and applied a touch of mascara.
Perfect.
You smoothed down your skirt before making your way to Tom's dorm.
You entered without knocking.
"Hi, Tommy," you said innocently.
"I think I left my notes here. You don't mind if I look for them, do you?"
You batted your eyelashes.
Tom's eyes narrowed.
"You're up to something, aren't you?"
"I don't know what you mean."
You stepped inside his dorm, pretending to begin your search.
You "searched" on his bed, lifting pillows before bending down to look underneath.
...conveniently giving him a rather nice view beneath your skirt.
Silence.
You knew he was watching without needing to look.
"Found them?" Tom asked evenly.
"Not yet."
"Pity."
"Well, my notes aren't under your bed. Maybe they're on your desk?"
You wandered over, pretending to search through the drawers before reaching for one just out of reach.
You stretched, letting him catch a whiff of your perfume.
"You're playing a dangerous game, love."
"What game? I'm just looking for my notes."
You smiled sweetly.
"I suppose they're not here. I might've left them somewhere else then."
You walked towards the door.
"Bye, Tommy."
You placed a deliberate kiss on his cheek before walking out of his dorm, leaving him momentarily distracted.
Now...
Onto phase two.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Later that evening, you returned to Tom's dorm, finding him bent over a book.
"Tom?"
"What is it, love?"
"Can you explain Inferi to me? I didn't understand today's lesson."
He looked up before gesturing for you to come closer.
"Ugh, first I need to get out of this uniform. Give me a minute?"
Without waiting for a reply, you grabbed one of Tom's shirts from his wardrobe and disappeared into the bathroom.
A minute later, you emerged wearing his shirt.
Just his shirt.
Tom's eyes darkened.
"Much better, isn't it?"
You sat beside him.
"So... Inferi?"
Tom sighed.
"You're impossible."
But he opened his book anyway, pointing to the chapter as he began explaining.
"Wait."
You placed a hand on his thigh.
It tensed beneath your touch.
"I can't see the book from this angle."
You rose from your seat and settled onto his lap instead.
His hands instinctively found your waist.
"Sweetheart..."
His voice dropped into a warning tone.
"Don't be sour, Tommy. Now start explaining, please."
"You're attempting to compromise my exam performance."
You smiled.
"Is it working?"
"...Unfortunately."
He sighed.
"Sit somewhere else."
"No."
"Fine."
He simply continued reading-with you still sitting on his lap-as though nothing had happened.
You wrapped one arm around his neck while he resumed explaining.
Somewhere along the way, you began placing soft kisses along his cheek and jaw.
Tom paused.
"What are you doing?"
"Kissing you."
"Yes... I can see that."
He sighed but didn't pull away.
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to. I don't need a reason to kiss my boyfriend, do I?"
"Must you do it while I'm trying to focus?"
"Yuuuuup."
You emphasized your point by placing another kiss on the corner of his lips.
"If you keep doing that, you're going to get yourself into trouble."
"Maybe I want to get into trouble."
You shifted in his lap before swinging one leg over his, fully straddling him.
"Five minute make-out break?"
Tom had always prided himself on his self-control.
Unfortunately, you were sitting in his lap, wearing nothing but his shirt, your hair cascading over your shoulders, those pretty lips practically begging to be kissed.
He groaned.
His composure cracked.
"...Five minutes."
Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Twenty minutes later...
His hair was thoroughly dishevelled, and his tie had somehow ended up on the floor.
"God, you're a menace."
You smiled smugly.
"I'm your menace."
"That you are."
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"All mine."
You glanced at the clock.
It was already ten o'clock.
The DADA exam was tomorrow.
"I should go back to my dorm. We have an exam tomorrow."
His fingers idly played with the hem of your skirt.
"Have you revised?"
"Several times."
"And you understand Inferi now?"
"Yes."
"And you're clear on all the concepts? Did you go over the-"
"Tom."
He looked up at you.
"I'm prepared for the exam."
You smiled reassuringly.
"I promise."
"...Okay."
He nodded.
"Good."
You leaned down and placed one final kiss on his lips before standing.
"Bye, Tommy."
You smiled warmly.
"I love you."
The door closed softly behind you.
Tom looked after it for a moment before shaking his head with a fond sigh.
"Love you too, sweetheart."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The Defence Against the Dark Arts exam had come and gone.
Tom had walked into the classroom certain he would ace it.
Then he'd read the very first question.
Describe the process by which an Inferius is created...
His quill hovered over the parchment.
Inferi.
Unfortunately, the word no longer reminded him of the textbook.
Instead...
"Sweetheart... sit somewhere else."
"No."
"You're attempting to compromise my exam performance."
"Is it working?"
"Unfortunately."
Tom closed his eyes for exactly three seconds.
Focus.
By the time he'd banished the memory, precious minutes had slipped away.
For the first time in years...
Tom Marvolo Riddle second-guessed himself.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Today was the day of the results.
Today was the day that decided who won the bet.
The corridor outside Professor Dippet's office buzzed with anxious chatter as students crowded around the notice board.
You stood beside Tom, trying-and failing-to hide your nerves.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"Not at all."
"You've been bouncing on your heels for the last two minutes."
"I have not."
"You have."
"...Maybe a little."
A murmur swept through the crowd as the results were pinned to the board.
"They're up!"
Students surged forward.
Tom gently took your hand before leading you through the crowd.
Your eyes skimmed down the parchment.
Transfiguration.
Charms.
Potions.
Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Overall Average.
Your breath caught.
Tom Marvolo Riddle — 98
And in front of your name...
98.1
Silence.
Tom stared at the parchment.
"...One mark."
You couldn't stop yourself from smiling.
"One very important mark."
"You distracted me."
"I distracted you."
"You sabotaged my revision."
"I gave you affection."
"You weaponised affection."
"I prefer to think of it as strategic planning."
Tom let out a long, resigned sigh.
"You planned the entire thing."
"You realised that the moment I walked into your dorm."
"I did."
"And yet..."
He looked at you.
"...And yet."
You grinned.
"So."
"So."
"I believe I won."
"You did."
"And according to the terms of our agreement..."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"...We're getting the kitten."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The tiny black kitten was even cuter than you remembered.
The moment the shopkeeper placed him on the floor, you crouched down with a smile.
"Hi, sweetheart."
The kitten looked at you.
You held out your hands expectantly.
He blinked.
Then...
...trotted straight past you.
"...Excuse me?"
The kitten marched directly over to Tom, who was standing with his arms folded and looking thoroughly unimpressed.
Without a second thought, the tiny ball of fluff climbed onto his polished shoes, scaled his robes with surprising determination, and curled up comfortably in his lap.
A tiny, contented purr filled the shop.
You stared.
Then burst into laughter.
Tom looked down at the kitten now happily kneading his robes.
"...Traitor."
The kitten blinked up at him.
You wiped a tear from your eye, still laughing.
"Looks like he chose you."
"I don't recall giving him permission."
The kitten answered by rubbing his head against Tom's hand.
Tom sighed.
"...Unbelievable."
Almost absentmindedly, his fingers reached up to scratch behind the kitten's ears.
The purring somehow grew even louder.
You smirked.
"So..."
"No."
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
"I do."
"Its name is Pickles."
Tom looked horrified.
"...Absolutely not."
"It's perfect."
"It's ridiculous."
"It's adorable."
"It's an affront to language."
The kitten yawned, stretched, and promptly fell asleep in Tom's arms.
You folded your arms with a satisfied smile.
"I think Pickles likes his name."
"He doesn't know his name."
"He has excellent taste."
Tom looked down at the sleeping kitten for a long moment before quietly adjusting his grip so the tiny creature wouldn't slip.
"...We're discussing the name later."
You grinned victoriously.
"You've already lost two arguments today, Tommy."
"I've noticed."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Over the next few weeks, an oddly specific rumour spread around Hogwarts.
Students had begun spotting Tom Riddle walking through the corridors with a tiny black kitten tucked beneath one arm.
Whenever anyone commented on it, his response never changed.
"It's not my cat."
The kitten would immediately begin purring.
"It simply follows me."
The kitten would climb onto his shoulder.
"I am temporarily holding it."
The kitten would fall asleep against his chest.
Tom would continue walking as though nothing unusual was happening, all while absentmindedly scratching behind its ears.
You merely smiled to yourself every time you saw it.
After all...
The kitten hadn't chosen you.
It had chosen Tom.
And Tom-much to his own annoyance-had absolutely no intention of giving it back.
————————————————————————
Tag list - @pbjts @bunnieeegohop @mooniez @ithinkaboutyouuu @yourstargirlyyy
Divination was stupid. Theo knew it. Enzo knew it. But unfortunately for the two of them, Daphne Greengrass did not. She was quite the believer in fact—spending hours charting stars to gauge compatibility, gazing into her crystal ball, and practicing her palm reading. A load of bollocks and a complete waste of time in Theo's opinion, but, he wasn't a monster and so he humored his friend, content in blocking out Professor Trelawney's incessant babbling for an hour at the start of his day.
Theo was just admiring how particularly gray the walls of the castle were looking this fine morning when a sharp elbow to the ribs pulls his attention back to the old bat's class. Theo shoots a glare Enzo's way as he rubs his wounded ribcage pointedly. To only further his agitation, Theo notices that Trelawney is now stood directly in front of him extending a deck of tarot cards to him as she blinks her wide owlish eyes at him expectantly.
With a deep sigh and a rather dramatic eye roll, Theo plucks a card from the deck and hands it back to the witch without even bothering to glance at it. Trelawney doesn't seem to mind much though as she inhales sharply, a grin that seemed much too wide for her face forming as she flips the card back to Theo.
"Yes, yes. Just as I predicted dear boy. Just as I predicted. The Two of Cups!" She announces proudly, brandishing the card out towards the class.
Daphne squeals.
"Oh Teddy—"
"Don't call me that."
Daphne ignores him.
"How exciting. How romantic," she continues, clearly far more interested in the pull than Theo was.
She pulls out a script of parchment, finger tracing down the lines of notes until she finds what she's searching for. Then she shoves the parchment under Theo's nose.
"Look there. The Two of Cups—signifies mutual attraction and deep connections. A representation of kindred spirits in the early stages of falling in love. That's so romantic," she gushes, continuing on in her notes.
Enzo snorts doing a horrible job trying to stifle his laughter. Theo glowers, not even wanting to deign such a ridiculous concept with a response. This was ludicrous. The whole thing. Theo had been attending Hogwarts for well long enough to know that there was not a single present student in the school that he would even dignify having a romantic relationship with. He can't help but shake his head and scoff at the mere idea.
"Oh lighten up Teddy, heaven forbid you let Daphne have this," Enzo snickers, clearly enjoying the discomfort the whole thing brought Theo.
It was easy for him to say. It wasn't his love life being carefully dissected by their mystic enthused friend.
Being the new student at any new school was always going to be nerve wracking. But being the new student at a new school in a whole new country was significantly worse in every aspect. Whispers float down the corridors, your name echoing off the high ceilings of the castle, and eyes flicker towards the ground as you pass as if they hadn't just been staring shamelessly the moment prior. Normally the stares wouldn't bother you much, but the constant hushed voices were beginning to be unnerving. Your lips tighten as you move swiftly through the halls and you can't help but feel a bit self conscious as you smooth out your unfamiliar, deep blue robes.
You weren't exactly enthusiastic about your new school to begin with. It was different—of course it would be—but no matter how much you had prepared yourself for all the changes, it just hadn't been enough. Like really, they let a ratty, old—albeit sentient—hat determine house placements? You hadn't wanted that thing anywhere near your head, but it just couldn't be helped. Then, once you had been placed into your house, you come to find that yours is the only one in the entire school that requires you to solve a freaking riddle just to get into your damn room. Asinine. And to top it all off, the wretched school was literally impossible to navigate because the staircases, apparently, were also sentient and did whatever the hell they wanted.
All that to say, when you finally collapse into a seat in the back of, what you hoped was the History of Magic classroom, you were more than a little miffed. With an agitated huff, you try to stay invisible as more students begin to file into the classroom, taking their seats closer to the front. As seats fill, the extra buffer of breathing room melts a bit of the tension in your shoulders. When your professor—a ghost you notice dryly—begins to write on the chalk board, you finally feel yourself start to relax, pulling out a roll of parchment from your bag and carefully copying down each line.
Just as you're about to finish—The Gargoyle Strike of 1911—the classroom door swings open once more and a boy with brown hair and dark, calculating eyes saunters in. You're content with giving him a quick, uninterested glance before getting back to your notes, but unfortunately for you, the boy is rapidly approaching. His bag hits the floor next to you with a dull thread and you feel your lips turn downward into a frown as you look up at the boy once more in annoyance.
You watch as the boy's mouth opens as if to say something, but then his eyes meet yours and you watch him freeze, mouth agape for a moment then two. Just as it's becoming a bit uncomfortable, he seems to awaken from his trance looking shaken, brows furrowing as if he were wondering why on Earth he was just standing there like a fool. Still though, he tilts his head awkwardly—chin gesturing towards the rest of the class—and for the first time you notice that every other seat in the room seems to be occupied. With a sigh of defeat, you wordlessly turn back to the board, preparing to scramble to write down whatever you'd missed just now, content with simply ignoring this boy's existence for the the rest of class.
"A 'wildcat strike' refers to a stopping of work by unionized workers without authorization from the union. In 1911 the wildcats were winning, meaning things were moving in favor of the gargoyles—"
Good god this was horrible. You weren't even ten minutes into your first day of this new class and you already wanted to throw yourself off the top of Ravenclaw tower. It seemed as though many of the other students in class felt similarly as one of the boys sitting a few rows in front of you lets out a concernedly loud snore. You have to choke down a snicker as your eyes flicker up to the ghost at the front of the room, but he doesn't seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn't care.
"That's Finnigan. There's a running bet on how long it'll take him to fall asleep after Binns starts monologuing," the boy next to you murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips.
You turn to look at the boy, surprised to hear him speak after all, and for the first time take a good look. Shit. He was hot. You don't really get the chance to dwell too much on it though because he speaks again.
"That one next to him is Thomas. Any second now he'll start piling things on top of 'em. See how high the stack gets before it falls over or Finnigan wakes up. Whichever comes first."
As if on queue, the boy next to the snoring kid carefully places a thick text book on his friend's back. Then another. It's like you can't look away as you watch on in morbid fascination.
"They friends of yours?" you find yourself asking as the boy, Thomas, adds an ink well to his tower.
Your desk partner snorts.
"Hardly. Lions and snakes don't exactly get along," he says smoothly.
You have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but you don't want to ask. Instead you continue to watch as a bag of Bertie Bott's jelly beans, three quills, a sweater, and someone's pet frog is added to the pile. A potted plant is about to be placed on top when a sneeze sends the whole thing crashing to the floor. Professor Binns doesn't even blink as he just continues on. Finnigan's head shoots up as he takes in his surroundings once more, shoulders slumping when he apparently realizes where he is. Understandable.
The rest of class is an absolute drag as you flit in and out of different thoughts and daydreams. Anywhere was better than here, listening to this ghost drown on. If he were any less interesting, you're sure the entire class would die of sheer boredom and be cursed to haunt this very classroom with the old professor. Doomed to be subjected to the very thing that killed you all in the first place for all eternity.
After what you're certain is the longest hour of your life, class finally ends, but to your dismay, you realize that halfway through class you'd simply given up on taking notes. Dammit. As though reading your mind, the boy next to you slides his parchment towards you. His notes are impeccable. Perfectly neat rows in dark ink with not a smudge in sight.
"I can get them back tomorrow," he says simply, before returning the rest of his materials into his bag.
You open your mouth to thank the boy, but before you even get the chance he's gone in a swoosh of emerald green and black.
The whole thing leaves you a bit stunned. It was the first real interaction you'd had with, really anyone at your new school and you couldn't tell if you'd completely blown it or not. He'd seemed decent enough, whoever he was. And that's when it occurs to you. You hadn't even bothered to ask the boy's name.
"Mmm. What was their name again?" Theo asks, trying to appear nonchalant as he inserts himself into Enzo and Daphne's conversation.
The three of them occupied their usual spots inside the Slytherin common room, the soft glow of green flames painting their faces as their voices mix in with the other echoes of the dungeon. Enzo eyes Theo suspiciously, noting that—despite the unbothered front he put on—Theo's fingers couldn't seem to stop tapping anxiously against his knee. See, usually when Enzo and Daphne were participating in their daily debrief, Theo was staring off into the abyss, pointedly ignoring them. So it didn't take an intuitive genius to pick up on the sudden spike of interest he was showing.
"Y/n. They're from America," Daphne says helpfully, seemingly oblivious to the way that Enzo was trying to dissect their friend's inner most thoughts.
"Why all the interest? They catch your eye? Are you two already falling into the early stages of love?" He taunts when he isn't able to get a proper read on his friend.
Theo's heart stops beating in his chest for half a moment before he juts out his chin defiantly.
"All anyone will talk about. Just curious to know who all the fuss is about," he retorts, forcing his voice to remain steady as he continues to stare ahead, avoiding the curious glances of his friends.
He can tell Enzo doesn't quite buy it, but that simply isn't his problem to worry about at the moment.
So they were from America. Huh.
Truthfully, Theo didn't know much about America. Hadn't ever really cared to find anything out. He was familiar with Ilvermorny of course. Which was presumably your former school, but that was pretty much the extent of it. Maybe he'd ask you about it tomorrow.
Assuming he didn't freeze up again at the mere sight of you. Salazar's ball sack that had been bloody embarrassing. Theo couldn't think of a single other time he'd ever frozen up like that, brief as it had been. Usually Theo liked to consider himself to be quite suave. Charming even, if he did say so himself. And he did. It was completely unlike him to be rendered speechless. Especially not by the mere presence of someone with a pretty face.
But it simply hadn't been his fault. How was he supposed to expect that some great, higher power was going to reach deep into his inner most thoughts and desires—pull together every single physical trait that Theo could possibly fantasize about—and combine them all into one single heavenly creature, and then plop them down right next to him in History of Magic of all classes.
Fate was cruel.
And speaking of fate, there was also all that nonsense from Divination that morning to think about. Theo leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. Surely the fact that batty, old Trelawney had predicted that he would fall in love was a complete coincidence in relation to him practically being prepared to propose to the new student in History of Magic a mere few hours later. How could it be anything else? Divination wasn't real. The whole class had been so close to being completely scrapped so many times that you either had to be a fool, or Daphne to believe in it.
Okay, so maybe Theodore was starting to believe it. A little. But what was he supposed to think as he watches you drag your feet through the door scowling? He feels his chest tighten as the two of you make eye contact and he watches as you make your way over to him.
"This seat taken?" you ask, already dropping your bag to the floor. "Didn't take you as one to be into this kinda stuff," you say conversationally as you pull parchment and a quill from your bag.
Theo scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not," he assures, "But Daph is," he adds, head tilting as he gestures to his friend.
He watches as your eyes dart over to the pretty blonde sitting happily between him and Enzo, assessing.
"Oh. Are you two?" The question lingers on your lips and Theo is quick to shake his head no.
Salazar he was being stupid. Of course you would assume—Why was he being like this?
"Nah. No. Daph's an old friend. Enz and I are just here for moral support. And an easy O." Theo hears himself drawl. "What about you? Training to become a seer?"
"Hardly. This was the only elective left that fit into my schedule apparently."
Salazar's balls you were perfect, Theo thinks to himself as Trelawney comes sweeping into the room. Her eyes are closed and her fingertips are pressed against her temples as she swooshes around the room, humming lowly.
"I feel new energy. An unfamiliar presence. You!" Trelawney screeches in her trembly voice, stopping in front of a poor, innocent Hufflepuff with an accusatory finger hovering dangerously close to their eyeball.
Theo can't help but let out a dry snicker and is delighted when he sees you out of the corner of his eye trying to hold back a laugh too. When it's clear to the old professor that the student in front of her had actually been present all year, her eyes scan the room, finally coming to a stop when they rest on you.
"Ah, there you are my dear! Your energy feels so concentrated on this side of the room, it simply drew me over," Trelawney babbles as she makes her way over. "Now let's see here. Palms up dear, palms up, let me have a look."
Theo watches amused, ignoring the weird kissing faces Enzo is making at him, as you sigh but still present your palms facing upwards to the professor. Her bony talons quickly engulf your hands, her eyes fluttering shut once more as her head tilts back, a low hum starting once more.
"Yes, yes. How interesting," the hums get louder as the professor's fingers dig into the lines of your palms. "I see. In the darkest hour, a dark shadow, it will over take you. Consume you."
Trelawney's eyes snap open and Theo watches her face melt back into a warm smile as she gives your hands one last squeeze.
"Welcome to class dear. We have much to learn, so much to see!"
Theo finds that he rather likes the way his heart swells when you turn to look at him, brow raised as you shake your head ever so slightly as if to say, 'what a nutter'.
"How many freaking goblin rebellions is it going to take before the British Ministry finally takes the hint and leaves those poor goblins alone?" you huff, slamming your books a little too loudly onto your table in the library.
You can feel Madam Pince attempting to burn a hole through your back as she glares at you, but you ignore her.
"Probably at least—" Theo checks his notes from the day's lesson, "six or seven. Unfortunately not every revolution to rid oneself of British rule is successful," he teases lightly.
You glare at the boy pointedly.
"I'm not even particularly, patriotic," you grumble, the word actually quite sour on your tongue, "but nothing brings Americans together quite like our mutual hatred of the British."
"Mmm. Do let it go on record now that my family is Italian," Theo replies dryly.
Theodore had very quickly become your closest friend at Hogwarts. From that first day in History of Magic the two of you just seemed to click. It also definitely helped that not only did he share your dry sense of humor, but he was also insanely smart, and very easy on the eyes. You'd been worried for a split second when he first introduced you to Daphne Greengrass, a familiar turning in your stomach that you'd quickly identified as jealousy flaring up, but it had been quickly squashed when Theo assured you that they were indeed just friends. But that was neither here nor there. You and Theo had become practically inseparable in the month that you'd been at your new school, much to the chagrin of his friends. You liked them too of course, and they'd been good sports about welcoming you into their little group, but with Theo it was just easy.
You slide your potions notes across the table just as Theo hands over his Charms essay for you to look over. No words exchanged, but you were both perfectly in sync. Easy.
It's far past dark when you finally push your chair back, the old wood scraping against the floor, and you force yourself to stifle a yawn.
"Alright. I'm calling it a night," you announce as you begin packing up your books. "I should head back in case it takes an hour to get that damn eagle to open up the common room door again."
You hear Theo let out a snort at your last comment. He'd heard well and good your complaints about that stupid hunk of metal.
"Guess I'll head out as well. Mattheo has been complaining that he never sees me anymore, but he's just mad he can't copy my notes anymore."
The two of you quickly gather the rest of your things, slinking out of the library right as Pince begins making her rounds to toss the last lingering students out before closing the doors for the night. The walk to Ravenclaw tower is made in comfortable silence as you walk side by side, both of you trying to ignore the way the back of your hands were brushing against each other as you went. When you finally arrive, a whole group of students in black and blue are outside the door when it swings open. Not wanting to miss your chance, you toss Theo a smile over your shoulder before disappearing with the crowd of students through the door.
As soon as you enter your room, you dump your bag on the ground at the foot of your bed, trade your stiff school uniform for a more comfortable track set, and turn right back out the door—a disillusionment spell on the tip of your tongue. You move silently against the walls, retracing the same steps you'd just taken, leading your right back to the library. It's dark now—you knew from experience that as soon as the clock hit ten, Pince was out the doors. You lift your wand, ready to cast the usual alohomora but tonight something stops you. Call it a gut feeling. You grip the handle of the heavy, wood door and without so much as a squeak, the door swings open. Huh. Maybe the cranky librarian had been in such a rush to leave she forgot to lock up.
Without giving it so much as a second thought, you slip through the doors, following the familiar path that lead you right to the heart of the restricted section of the library. Really, you often found yourself wondering, why on Earth did they have a so called restricted section, and then not even bother to put up a single ward to keep students from entering? Wasn't very restricted if they asked you. Your fingertips brush over the spines of different books as you pass through the shelves, pulling one from the shelf every so often if it catches your eye. The silence of the empty library was deafening, but you relished the way you could hear your footsteps echoing on the tile and the rustle of pages turning as you flipped through your nightly finds.
You're on your tiptoes, straining to reach a large tome from the top shelf when you catch sight of a dark shadow appearing out of the corner of your eye. God, you hoped it wasn't that old man Filch. He wasn't as bad as everyone made him seem, you'd been able to talk him out of snitching on you thus far, but it kind of ruined the mood. Your hand drops to rest on the handle of your wand as the shady figure draws closer and you prepare to throw one of your books its way just in case.
"What are you doing here?" the confused voice of Theodore rings out just as you're about to launch your copy of Moste Potente Potions at his head.
You feel your shoulders sag in relief. You hadn't been scared of course. Just vaguely alarmed. Then you let out a laugh.
"And what's funny?"
"Oh, nothing. Just Trelawney and her whole 'A dark shadow is going to overtake you' spiel," you snicker. "And what do you mean what am I doing here? What are you doing here?" you ask rather indignantly, turning back to focus on the book that was just out of your reach.
"I come down to the library at night all the time," Theo replies, crossing his arms defensively.
"Well it's obviously not all the time because I've been here every night this month and I've never seen you down here," you reply casually.
You can practically hear Theo rolling his eyes at you.
"Well of course not all the time, Filch would start getting—sorry did you say you've been here every night? How has Filch not caught you?"
You shrug your shoulders noncommittally, glaring up at the book that seemed to be just taunting you.
"He has a few times, but we usually just chat for a little and then he'll send me on my way."
You don't see the absolutely stunned look on Theo's face.
"You chat? With Filch. About what?" Theo asks incredulously.
You let out an exasperated sigh.
"The weather. Cat toy recommendations for Mrs. Norris. His mother's retirement in France. I don't know, we chat about a lot of things."
You still aren't facing Theo, but if you had been, you probably would have laughed at the completely gobsmacked look that was written across his face.
"Now will you be useful and get that book down for me?" you ask, foot stomping impatiently on the ground.
Still too shocked to respond, Theo reaches up over your head, placing one hand on your shoulder for balance as he easily plucks the book you'd been reaching for off the shelf. Just as he's about to hand it to you though, it seems he comes back to his senses and that smug grin that you'd become so familiar with recently finds its way back to his lips.
"Uh uh uh, where's my reward?" he teases, holding the book just out of reach once more as he smirks down at you.
"Reward?" you ask dryly, looking up to raise an eyebrow at your friend.
Had he always been standing so close?
"I'm a Slytherin. I don't do something for nothing now," he says, voice like honey in your ears.
"What do you want?" you ask, eyes narrowing.
Theo tilts his head as if pretending to think.
"A kiss."
You blink, shoulders shrugging as you turn to face the boy properly. Seemed fair enough to you. You were definitely getting the best end of the deal. So you tug on the collar of Theo's sweatshirt, before crashing your lips into his. His lips are warm and soft and that's all you take note of before pulling away quickly. Theo is clearly stunned once more so you take the opportunity to finally get your hands on the book you'd been eyeing this whole time.
"Thanks Theo!"
Theodore Nott was dangerously close to never brushing his teeth ever again. Because you had kissed him last night. In some sudden, stupid burst of confidence he had asked you to kiss him and you did. It had been a complete joke—Theo hadn't even remotely considered that you'd actually do it, but you'd grabbed the collar of his jumper and then your lips were on his and he knew he was well and truly done for.
"Theo. Theo! You need to get your act together mate," Lorenzo grunts, elbowing his friend to get his attention.
"What? Stop that," Theo mutters, batting Enzo’s arm away from him.
"Seriously. You're acting like a love sick puppy."
Theo glares.
"Would take one to know one," he snaps, falling back in his seat with a huff.
Now it's Enzo's turn to narrow his eyes.
"I'm going to choose to ignore that because you're just upset that you didn't kiss y/n back," he responds.
Theo's eyes bulge at the bold—albeit correct—observation.
"Can you keep your bloody voice down?" he hisses, eyes flickering about to make sure no one had heard.
Luckily, you had only just entered the divination classroom so at least Theo was safe for now. Or maybe not.
"Morning," you say brightly giving the group a small wave and taking your usual spot next to Theo.
Theo opens his mouth to respond but, Salazar you smelled good today, and your lips, god your lips looked soft and pink and, the words feel caught in Theo's throat. Somewhere in the distance he can hear Enzo snickering obnoxiously, but all Theo can do is stare at you dumbly. This was mortifying. As soon as he figured out how to move again Theo was launching himself straight off this bloody tower.
"Hey, do you want to sneak into the library again tonight?" you ask casually, laying your things out on your desk, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you were about to send Theo into cardiac arrest.
Of course I'll sneak back into the library with you. Especially if it means you'll kiss me again, Theo wants to say. But he has at least a little bit of dignity left, so he straightens himself in his chair, trying to maintain at least somewhat of an air of nonchalance as he finally strings a sentence together.
"Sure."
Okay, so a sentence might be giving himself a bit too much credit, but it was better than sitting there gaping like a daft idiot. You seem satisfied with his answer though as you turn to face the front just as Trelawney waltzes into the room with her usual dramatic flair. Theo drifts in and out of the lesson as Trelawney rambles on about tea leaves and the placement of tasseography symbols. He tried to focus. Really he needed to, because the alternative was his gaze finding its way to the curve of your lips and the way your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek as you furiously scribbled down notes.
The gentle sound of metal clinking on china pulls Theo wholey back to class as a spoon taps impatiently on the teacup in front of him as if urging him to drink. Glancing around he sees most of his classmates were already bottoms up. Drinking down the rather bitter liquid, Theo carefully places his cup back down in front of him, peering disinterestedly at its contents. Just looked like soggy tea leaves to him.
Trelawney insists on moving about the room though, dissecting the meanings inside each little cup and leaving behind a trail of utterly befuddled students in her wake. When she finally reaches Theo, he can visibly see her begin to vibrate with excitement as she moves his cup around in her hands, swishing the tea leaves back and forth.
"Look there, dear. Do you see?" she asks giddily, shoving the teacup back in Theo's face.
"No." he replies flatly, not even bothering to examine the wet leaves.
"Look closer."
Theo's nose is practically inside the cup now and he can hear you and Enz snickering on either side of him. Traitors. When he still doesn't say anything, Trelawney lets out a huff, sticking her crooked finger into the cup and speaking slowly as if explaining something to a small child.
"Right there. Don't you see?" she asks, as if it should've been the most obvious thing in the world. "An axe—" she swirls the cup to the side. "And a butterfly."
Theo stares blankly at the old woman.
"Use their notes and figure it out," she finally huffs in exasperation before sweeping off to another table.
As soon as she's gone and Theo makes eye contact with you he can't help but chuckle as Daphne scowls at the two of you.
"Look," she sighs, shoving her notes across the table for Theo to read.
The Axe—problems overcome
The Butterfly—success and pleasure
Wonderful. More nonsense. That was the problem with divination—the definitions were so broad they were basically meaningless. Overcoming problems and success? That could be about anything. Theo pushes the parchment back to its owner with a shrug. He'd just do what he always did and make something up for the assignment.
Shadows loom against the dimly lit walls of the library as you and Theo wander through the shelves together. Theo had been quieter than usual tonight. To be fair, he wasn't usually the most talkative person ever, but you had had to push to get your usual banter out of him. He clearly had something on his mind. You don't push though. That was something you both appreciated about each other—just being there together was enough.
Once you both have a sizable stack of books pulled together you tuck yourselves away in one of the back corners of the restricted section. Far enough that not even Mrs. Norris would bother to wander all the way back. You find yourself curling up next to your friend, legs pressed together and shoulders brushing as you cast a soft lumos charm just bright enough to illuminate the pages of your books as you read. The quiet is nice after a long day of navigating the crowded halls and classrooms of the school. Hogwarts was definitely a lively place, and you hadn't realized just how much you missed having some peace and quiet until you'd snuck out of Ravenclaw tower that first night.
"Do you think divination might not be completely useless?" Theo asks a while later, breaking the silence.
You look up in surprise before glancing down at the book he's reading—Divination Through the Ages: A Skeptics Guide—your eyebrows furrowing in thought. If you were being honest, you'd always thought that divination was, to be polite, dumb. In fact, you'd been rather pissed when your head of house, Professor Flitwick, had told you that it was the only class that would fit in your schedule. But you didn't think that was what Theo wanted to hear at the moment.
"I mean, all forms of magic have their unique uses I suppose," you reply carefully, wondering where this was going.
Theo just hums in response, continuing to finger through the pages of the book as you watch with curiosity. Finally, with a deep breath, he snaps the book closed and turns to face you. It's clear he wants to say something as you search his eyes which seem to be getting ever so slightly closer by the second. You can't help the way your eyes drop down to his lips as his tongue glides across his bottom lip nervously. They're so close now you can practically feel the way they had pressed against your own last night. However brief that encounter had been. When you finally tilt your head back up to meet his eyes once more, your nose brushes his and you feel your breath hitch. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was about to kiss you right now.
And then his lips are on yours and you feel your body go limp as he pulls you into him, your eyes fluttering closed as he molds you to him. Your book slips from your fingers with a dull thud as it hits the ground, but you hardly notice. Theo's lips are just as warm, and soft, and utterly intoxicating as you remembered them to be. You can feel Theo smiling against your lips as he pulls you impossibly closer and you forget where you are, what you were doing, everything except what it feels like to be held in Theo's arms.
When you finally break apart, it's your turn to blink in stunned silence as Theo gazes down at you, his breath warm against your cheek.
"Ever since you arrived, everything that divination has told me has come true," Theo says gruffly, clearly not pleased to be having to admit it.
You couldn't blame him. The two of you had kind of bonded over how unseriously you both took the class. Still though, you tilt your head, inviting him to continue.
"The first day we met—that morning in divination, a deck of tarot cards told me I was going to fall in love."
A dry laugh escapes Theo's lips as he pulls back, eyes trained everywhere but at you now. Which is probably for the best as you feel tendrils of heat creeping up into your face.
"I didn't believe them of course. Thought it was pure rubbish."
Your heart stutters for a moment before your eyes land on the book Theo had been reading so intently up until now.
"Hm. And did something change?" you ask cautiously, not daring to get your hopes up.
"Well, the soggy leaves in my tea this morning kind of implied that I should get my act together if I wanted any sort of success, so—" Theo lets out another wry laugh, though there's no humor in his voice. Just a nervous undertone that you can tell he's trying to mask.
"Well did you? Fall in love that is?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy around Theo for the first time.
There's a beat of silence where you can practically feel your heart trying to tear its way out of your chest. You hadn't quite realized just how much you wanted this until it was staring you in the face. Or rather anywhere but. Then Theo meets your eyes once more.
"I think I could. If I'm not half way there already."
His words melt every bit of tension you had been feeling previously as you let out a breath that you didn't know you'd been holding.
"I think I'm half way there too."
Everyone say thank you to the beta readers @simplyastra and @nottendo 🫶🏽
summary: lorenzo berkshire is a compulsive playboy, an obsessive flirt and a disastrous tease, so when you come to visit hogwarts for the spring term hot off of a terrible breakup, your best friend pansy has one rule: he can look, but he can't touch.
word count: 4.6k
author’s note: i love this messy, chaotic, disastrously hot boy.
Lorenzo's head throbbed with the reminder of every shot he'd taken the night before as he rubbed his hand slowly over his face and sunk further into the common room couch.
Pansy had “called a meeting" whatever the fuck that meant; all it had entailed thus far was getting dragged out of bed alongside the rest of his friends who looked just about as terrible as he felt.
She stood in front of them and cleared her throat as he peered at her behind half-open eyes that he tried to shade from the bright morning light.
"My best friend is coming to visit for her spring term" she announced.
No one said anything.
One person grunted.
"She has recently been through a horrific breakup and she's coming here to relax and escape. She is NOT—" she said loudly enough that Mattheo jumped, clearly having dozed off "—here to have a fling, a hookup, a one-night stand—"
Lorenzo raised his hand.
Pansy's eyes shot furiously to him.
"—nor a sneaky snog."
He lowered it.
"I am kindly asking—begging you to keep your hands and your dicks to yourself...Please" she said, closing her eyes in an effort to rein in her emotions and control herself before she shot Lorenzo another glare.
His lip curled in anger.
"Why does this feel pointed at me?" he asked.
"You went to the party last night with Penelope Farrell and left with Avery James. Do I have to say anything further?" she asked.
"Since when is that a crime?" Lorenzo replied, genuinely confused, a hand to his heart.
"He's been trying to get with Avery for ages" Blaise mumbled in support.
Pansy rubbed her temple.
"Just... be nice and keep your hands off of her, Berkshire" she relented.
He raised his hands in mock surrender and, seemingly satisfied, she pointed her ire elsewhere.
As soon as her back was turned Blaise leaned over with a sizable stack of coins in his hand.
"Two hundred galleons says you can't resist" he teased.
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed at him.
"Do you really think I'm incapable of restraining myself?" he asked, his voice rising in frustration at the way everyone was picking on him amidst how fucking horribly hungover he was.
"Yes" all five of them responded.
"Give me that" he snapped, yanking the coins out of Blaise's hand. "You've got a deal" he said, shoving them deep in his pocket.
That evening the boys were back on the common room couches, showered, changed and with decidedly more energy, ready for another night of debauchery as they passed a bottle of firewhiskey around whilst focusing on the videogame in front of them.
"Why does Pansy take for fucking ever to get ready, Malfoy?" Mattheo asked, his eyes glued to the TV as his fingers slammed the controller.
"We're going to miss the start of the match" Blaise mumbled.
"Sorry!" offered another voice, one he didn't recognize.
He pulled his gaze from the TV as his friends looked over his shoulder.
Blaise's jaw quite literally dropped.
Theo fumbled his controller onto the floor.
And Mattheo's character died tragically on screen, completely forgotten.
Enzo turned to see Pansy before his eyes slid to you and his next breath caught in his throat.
His heart stopped and stuttered like it was trying and failing to restart. And his mind emptied completely, void of thoughts, of words, of his effortlessly cool and calm composure and any concept of what expression he should have on his face.
Suddenly every warning, every glare in his direction, and every bribe made an enormous amount of sense, because you weren't just jaw-droppingly gorgeous, you were the perfect amalgamation of every. single. one. of his weaknesses, from your hair, to your eyes, your lips, every dip and curve of your body and the way you were dressed.
If Lorenzo had spent a lifetime describing what perfect looked like to him, Merlin himself couldn't have conjured you.
He swallowed.
And then you glanced at him and fucking smiled, a beautiful, genuine, heart-wrenchingly perfect smile on flawlessly glossed lips and Theo leaned in, whispering just loudly enough for him to hear.
"Amico... you are totally fucked."
The boys gathered their composure and recovered quickly as they stood to greet you and shepherd you out the door, but Lorenzo beelined for Pansy.
"Pans, Pans! Hey. Heeeeyyy you look so nice tonight—"
"—No."
"What?" he asked innocently. "I can't compliment you?"
She whirled on him as the others walked past, fawning over you in a way that had him looking wistfully at your departing figure.
Pansy snapped her fingers in his face.
"I'm not an idiot, Enzo, I know she's your type."
"My TYPE? Pansy. She was made for me. Are you joking yourself?" he asked, exasperated. "This is bigger than you and me, babe, this is divine intervention—"
"—No, this is my best friend, whom you promised you'd leave alone."
An unexpected wave of emotion washed over her that had Lorenzo hesitating as he saw tears line her eyes.
"It's...bad, Enz. This guy really did a number on her and what she absolutely doesn't need right now is a messy rebound."
He pouted. He sneered. And he tried valiantly to ignore the creeping feeling of sympathy and compassion he felt welling up inside him, squashing it further and further down.
But Pansy put up with their shit constantly and he couldn’t remember a single time she’d ever asked for anything in return.
He opened his mouth and closed it again like a fish out of water, gasping for air, because that's exactly what he felt like.
The girl of his dreams had all but fallen into his lap.
And there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it.
"I- fuck - fine" he muttered bitterly, depressed.
Pansy patted his back sympathetically and the two of them moved to catch up with the group.
Lorenzo pushed through the crowd at the Three Broomsticks completely and utterly deflated.
It was packed and the buzz of the crowd that normally would have fueled his exuberant energy felt overstimulating and annoying.
The group had managed to squeeze into a small booth that barely fit you all and in the hustle to arrange themselves, Mattheo, Blaise and Theo left Enzo the spot next to you, shooting him a wink and several thumbs up, whether in support or to torture him he didn't know.
He hadn't said a word to you, and he didn't intend to start now.
Being close enough to feel the weight of you against him, to smell your perfume, sultry and spicy, was enough to make his leg jiggle anxiously under the table, enough to force him to keep his hands and his mouth squarely occupied with his butterbeer as he stared at the quidditch match on the television.
So when you nudged him, he intentionally ignored it.
Until you nudged him again.
"Hey!" you said, leaning in to him to be heard over the noise of the crowd, close enough that he could feel your warm breath on his neck.
S'fine. Totally fine. I'm fine he thought as he turned his attention to you. His eyes rushed to drink you in hungrily, starved of trying to deny himself as he traced your lips, your bright eyes and your beautiful fucking smile that made his insides feel like someone had his heart in a vice.
You motioned him closer and he ducked his head.
"Montrose or Ballycastle?" you asked, nodding towards the TV, referring to the two teams on the screen.
"Oh, uhh Ballycastle" he answered, following your gaze to the action there. "We're Falmouth fans, but if not them, then, yeah Ballycastle for sure."
You smiled and nodded approvingly. "I think they have a shot if Quigley can get a few early goals" you agreed.
His eyes shot back to you.
"You... know quidditch?"
"Of course I do, what do I live under a rock? It's our national sport" you quipped, rolling your eyes as you took a drink of your butterbeer.
And for the life of him he couldn't stop staring at you, as he felt his soul crumble into a little ball. You didn't seem to notice, though, as your eyes stayed fixed on the screen and you chatted away.
"For what it's worth I also looovee Falmouth. I know everyone says they're too violent, but I think that makes their matches more entertaining" you shrugged.
"—That's literally what I've always said" he mumbled. "We're beaters" he said, pointing between him and Mattheo. "We take a lot of... inspiration from them" he laughed lightly.
"Yeah?" you asked, turning your attention back to him, your eyebrow quirked. "Okay, between the Broadmoor brothers who do you like better Karl or Kevin?" you teased.
He could have died.
He could have melted off his seat and then apparated to another town to start a new life where this wasn't happening because fuccckkkk you weren't just hot you were fucking cool. You knew quidditch, you rooted for Falmouth.
He was going to kill Pansy.
He could have cried if he wasn't so intent on making sure you never ever stopped looking at him the way you were now, interested, excited, intrigued.
"Karl, obviously" he said quickly, dismissively. "Anyone who says otherwise is sorely misinformed—"
"—Absolutely not! No!" you shot back and your conversation delved into a heated argument about Falmouth's starting line, their match strategy, and how they stacked up against other teams in the league that had the two of you so totally absorbed with each other that when everyone else went to get a drink you waved them off, entirely too focused on your conversation whilst Lorenzo was entirely too focused on you.
Over the next several days whether you were eating breakfast or walking to Hogsmeade you found yourself gravitating towards him, squeezing in beside him, seeking his company. Something about him, the way he looked at you, the way he respected you made you feel comfortable, like you had a place amidst this impenetrable group of friends.
His smile was genuine, not given lightly or carelessly, but earned and his eyes had a surprising warmth in them that you loved to study when you held his attention.
He was devastatingly handsome in a careless and boyish way with his gorgeously long hair and a penchant for biting his bottom lip when he listened to you. He was magnetizing, enticing in a way that should perhaps make you want to keep him at an arm's length after everything you'd been through with your ex, but you found yourself unable to resist, just as you couldn't resist the thought of running your fingers through his hair, or over his lips...
…Your mind wandered, lingering on the way he'd looked in his fitted t-shirt this morning and the sound of his laugh but even as you lost yourself in your fantasy you couldn’t deny the ache you felt at the way he responded to you because even when you felt yourself flirting shamelessly with him, you didn't get anything from him in return.
Not a cheeky comment.
Not a smoldering gaze.
Not a brush of his hand.
Nothing.
Pansy had described him as “a compulsive playboy”, “an obsessive flirt”, “a disastrous tease” and you thought you’d had a connection beyond the undeniable attraction between you; but if he wasn’t showing you an ounce of interest… what was wrong with you?
In your aggravation you’d started to lay it on thick, showering him with your attention, prolonged eye contact, a well-timed glance at his lips, ample praise, endless compliments, and indulgent physical touch from squeezing his muscular arm, to laying your head on his shoulder.
You even went so far as to rest your hand precariously high on his thigh last night where you could feel his muscles tighten in response, yet he hadn’t even broken his conversation with Theo, only turning to you later to offer a half smile.
You could have screamed.
Enzo lay in bed that night and stared despondently at the top of his four-poster bed questioning his morals as he listened to a storm kick up outside.
He'd always prided himself on his loyalty to his friends, but it was becoming near on impossible to deny you.
He wasn't an idiot. He knew you were flirting with him. He reveled in the way your eyes glinted at him, sinful in their insinuation, the way you touched him, squeezing his arm when you talked to him, or the way you'd nudge into his side when he walked, like even inches between you were too much.
And when you'd squeezed his leg the other night?
He'd had to grab a pillow from the couch to put over his lap and then pointedly ignore you for 20 minutes, and even still he'd just about thrown you over his shoulder.
He was exhausted.
He groaned and ran his hands down his face as thunder and lightning rolled loudly in the clouds overhead.
Fuck it he thought as he rolled out of bed and pulled on sweats, padding into the common room, there was no way he was going to get any sleep.
The searing lightning cast long shadows in the dark corridors and the dank air hung with the electricity of the storm, the noise of which reverberated off the stone walls of the dungeon louder than it did in the rest of the castle, which was why he didn't hear it at first.
He shuffled and rubbed his eyes until the thunder offered a reprieve long enough that he heard the distinct sound of muffled crying.
He picked his head up and saw you curled on the couch, a blanket nearly over your head.
As the next crack of lightning came, you cowered in fear and his feet moved before he could think of doing anything differently.
"Hey, hey" he said, coming to kneel in front of you.
As soon as you saw him, you sat upright and furiously wiped the tears from your face.
"Hey Enz!" you said with such manufactured cheerfulness that he briefly shook his head in confusion.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes searching your face in a way that was so earnest, it made your chin wobble again, but for a completely different reason.
"S-so sorry, I thought I was alone" you said, ignoring his question.
The storm cracked again and you jumped, eyes slamming shut.
"It’s s-silly to be scared, I know it's stupid, I'm f-fine" you lied.
He thoughtfully placed his hands on either side of your legs, deftly avoiding touching you as he met your eyes.
"You're sitting in the dungeon of a 1000-year-old castle in the middle of a storm that echoes in here loud enough to hurt my ears. Shit scares me too, all the time."
That made you pause, and now it was your turn to look confused as you took as shaky breath.
"No, but I shouldn't be crying, I'm sorry—"
"—Stop apologizing" he said, laughing quietly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
You muffled a hiccup.
"But it's annoying when girls cry. And I know it's stupid to be afraid of storms."
He was genuinely baffled as he tried to say something before you interrupted him.
"Look, you don't always have to be so nice, Enzo. I know how guys think."
Lorenzo narrowed his eyes as he looked at you until it clicked, your fear, your words…
"Hold on, did-did your ex tell you you were annoying when you cried and stupid when you were afraid?" he whispered.
And just hearing the words from someone else's mouth made you realize how genuinely fucked up it was. You shrugged in defeat, at a loss for what to say in response as tears crowded your eyes again.
"Fucking hell" he said, forfeiting the effort to keep his distance as he sat next to you and pulled you into his arms.
You curled into him eagerly, nearly crawling into his lap, getting as close to him as possible and when the next flash of lightning came, he held you tightly against him and then rubbed your back as the thunder subsided.
"Did you ever hear about the time Theo's grandma ran from the cops?" he asked. "It's a great story."
You could tell he was trying to distract you and you let out a breathy laugh and shook your head as you sniffled.
He launched into the story, perfectly mimicking Theo's Italian accent in a way that had you laughing a little at first and then belly laughing by the end.
Enzo's deep voice continued to rumble beneath where your head rested just above his heart and between that sensation and the feeling of his warm arms around you, you fell into a deep sleep.
As you got heavy in his arms and he felt your warm breath against him he relaxed, relieved that you were okay. After a few minutes, you wound your arms further around him and snuggled into him, letting out a contended sigh.
He swallowed and let out a steadying breath as his insides churned, because this was going from wanting to pin you against every surface and kiss you until you forgot your own name to a whole hell of a lot more.
He'd hooked up with plenty of girls, but he couldn't ever remember holding a single one until they fell asleep.
Before long your warmth and the perfect way you held him, grasping his sweatshirt in your fingers like you never wanted to let him go coaxed him into a deep sleep of his own.
He dreamt of you, and he dreamt of the press of your warm lips to his cheek and when he woke up, he was alone.
At breakfast the next morning, you slid silently in beside him and bumped his shoulder in acknowledgement as you smiled up at him. He glanced down and smiled at you, quickly scanning your face and barely meeting your eyes but he didn't say anything, choosing instead to turn and talk to Blaise. Because even though falling asleep with you in his arms might have been the very best thing he could have wished for, after last night he finally understood that Pansy had been exactly right.
You had been hurt, you were still hurting, and you deserved someone a hell of a lot better than him on the other side of your pain. He was done trying to pretend like this could be something you both knew it couldn't, done trying to let himself dream a dream that would never come true.
Your heart sank.
And your insecurities grew.
Because despite the fact that you'd fallen asleep in Lorenzo's arms, head resting on his heart, fingers wound in his sweatshirt, things between you were still painfully platonic in a way that made your head spin.
“What’s the deal with Lorenzo?” you asked Pansy that afternoon, attempting to make it sound casual as you swiped your mascara in preparation for the boys’ quidditch match.
Her shrewd eyes shot to you. “What do you mean?”
“He’s ... hard to read.”
“That’s the infamous Berkshire charm. He’ll give you just enough attention to get what he wants and then he’ll ignore you like you never meant a thing to him. Didn’t I tell you?”
“Yeah, I guess…” you said, worrying your bottom lip, warring with the Lorenzo she described and the one you thought you knew.
“Why, did he do something?” she asked.
You laughed humorlessly. “No quite the opposite.”
Her eyebrow cocked.
“Pans, I’ve been laying it on thick and he won’t even give me the time of day. I-I think I’m broken” you said, your words and worries pouring out of you now.
“What if no one ever wants me again? What if I’ve lost my touch? I mean, I feel like all of your friends are completely blind to me. They’re sweet don’t get me wrong, it’s just not how you described them. And Enzo? I swear to the gods he and I are perfect and I don’t even mean that because I want to climb him like a fucking tree, which, of course, I do but... I'm catching feelings” you said, sighing as you blotted at the blossoming tears beneath your eyes to keep your fresh makeup intact.
She groaned and rubbed her forehead.
“Alright, alright, stop, please. Promise you won’t kill me?”
You sniffed and looked at her before your eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I threatened the shit out of them. They know that this” she said waving her hand around you “is strictly off limits.”
“Pansy!!!—” you moaned.
“—I didn’t want you coming here and having your heart shattered all over again!! Do you know how many girls have tried to come up to me to see if I could just talk to Theo or Enzo or Mattheo for them? It’s sickening, it’s a bloodbath, I wasn’t putting you through it!—”
“—So you’re saying I have a chance?!”
Pansy sighed, rolled her eyes, and let her head fall back to stare at the ceiling before speaking, resigned.
“I’m saying that if I gave Berkshire the greenlight... he’d probably propose.”
You let out a noise that was something between a squeal and a scream as you jumped up and down, your mind aflutter with the possibilities.
You looked down at your fitted t-shirt and jeans and then to her, bundled in Draco's team-issued quidditch sweatshirt and smiled.
The cold spring wind nipped at your cheeks, turning them a rosy red as you watched flashes of silver and green dip and dive, though your eyes lingered on Lorenzo.
You pulled the sleeves of his team-issued sweatshirt over your hands and huddled into the warm fabric, noticing more than a few sidelong glances and whispers at the sight of you wearing his name, which you pointedly ignored.
When they won the crowd was raucous in their celebration, humming with anticipation of the party to come and Pansy was no exception as she dragged you by the hand through the crowd.
"C’mon, I want to be the first to the keg—" she'd started.
"—Can I meet up with you, actually?" you asked as your eyes shot tentatively behind you to the locker room.
She shot you a scandalized look before grabbing your face and kissing your cheek.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" she said teasingly as she departed.
"That's a short list!" you shouted after her.
She flipped you off over her head.
You situated yourself just outside the locker room door. You could hear their music, their excited celebrations muffled though still palpable, like a spell. A few players trickled out here and there as you waited, the passing time giving you just enough opportunity to feel uncertain when the door creaked open again.
He was running his hand through his damp hair, his long strides quick and sure but he faltered to a stop when he saw you.
He noticed you were wearing the Slytherin green and silver, and was just thinking how good it looked on you when his stomach dipped and then dropped faster than it had all afternoon on his broom when he realized that it was his sweatshirt, his name you were wearing.
There was no way he could be normal about how that made him feel as his palms became clammy.
"Hey!" you greeted him enthusiastically as he approached you; you always lit up for him in a way he’d never get sick of. "That was awesome! You did great!" you said warmly as you moved toward him.
"Oh! M'sweaty" he protested, albeit weakly, as he felt your arms wrap around him and he pulled you closer.
For all the girls he'd hooked up with, none had ever waited for him after a match like this and certainly none of them had ever worn his name. He held you a little closer as his heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with the energy he'd just exerted.
He felt you press into him further and took that as his sign to let you go, resigned.
But you pulled back slowly pausing right as your noses brushed, your eyes twinkling at him as they sparkled and then drew down to his lips. He could feel himself start to sweat again, felt it drip down his neck, his back, as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth and bit it, hard.
“I—" his voice croaked and his palms squeezed your hips harder, cementing you in place and all you could think was bless this boy for being such a good listener.
“Pansy told me” you relented.
He pulled back further in an attempt to better read your expression.
“Abouuutttt?”
“What she said about me being firmly off limits?”
He eyed your face for any sort of a joke as he felt his adrenaline pumping.
“Please don’t fuck with me” he said, strong and forceful.
And then his eyes slammed closed and his face scrunched because he couldn’t look at you and think at the same time.
“Look, Panys’s right" he said. "You deserve a good guy, a really good guy and I don’t think I’m—"
You shifted against him and he felt your lips fall electric on his own. And whatever noble thought he’d been having dissipated at the warmth, the wetness, the faint taste of strawberries as he groaned and cupped your face with his hands and kissed you back hungrily moving his lips over yours again and again and again, consuming you as he pushed you into the wall betraying everything he’d held back, everything he’d dreamed about as his tongue rolled over yours and you squeezed him tighter. He kissed you hot and hard and desperate in a way that had you mindless, breathless.
His lips left yours and you panted, gasping, only to feel him trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking you, tasting you, then sucking hard enough to leave a mark in a way that made you shiver. You could feel him smile against you as he pressed another kiss to your lips.
Your eyes fluttered, lidded and glazed over completely.
“What if I don’t want a good guy?” you asked.
He was in love.
E P I L O G U E
Lorenzo's arm was wound tightly around your shoulders as he pushed the common room door open. The party was in full swing and he navigated deftly through the sea of bodies without ever letting you go until he found his friends.
Conversation stopped as they looked from your flushed cheeks to your smudged lip gloss, to the trio of hickies on your neck and finally to Lorenzo’s shit-eating grin and shining lips.
“Panys’s going to kill him. She’s going to fucking bury him” Mattheo muttered as he shook Theo beside him to get his attention.
“Hmm? Oh fuck” he said the second his eyes landed on you.
“This should be good” they whispered to each other as they eyed Pansy to see her reaction with bated breath.
But all she did was sigh and smile at you, and you smiled back.
“Wait, what!? Hang on!” Mattheo shouted as he began to argue with her about equal opportunities and unfair advantages.
Lorenzo reached into his pocket, fingering the coins there.
“Blaise?” he asked as each of the boys turned to him.
“With all due respect, which, of course, is none” he said before he leaned over and slammed the coins in Blaise’s hand.
summary: you had been wronged. majorly. as a result, your heart was always held close. mattheo was determined to change that.
warnings: who doesn't like some angst?
words: 2.8k
i'm thinking glue song by beabadoobee vibes...?
Mattheo had never been rendered speechless, yet here he was, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you with disbelieving eyes. He must have heard you wrong. He did everything right. Perfectly gelled hair, a signature smirk twisting his lips upward, and a swagger you could only obtain by having the Riddle pedigree.
"Sorry, no?" He closed his mouth.
You had to bite back a laugh. Your mouth just twitched. "I don't want to go on a date with you. Is that seriously baffling?"
He had to stop the arrogant words that immediately came to mind. "Well, uh, wow. Can I be honest?"
"Sure, Mattheo." Your tone was as dry as dust.
"Yes! It's baffling!" If he had half a mind, he would have asked, 'Do you know who I am?'
You rolled your eyes, poking your finger into his broad chest. "That's the problem."
His gaze traveled down to where you touched him. The spot felt sore now. "What problem?" It was confusing. The first girl he actually thought twice about (more like every day) was rejecting him?
"I'm not going to be a conquest," you brushed hair over your shoulder, "I actually have self-respect."
He blinked, shaking his head as you waltzed past him, your head held high, and that school-issued plaid skirt that somehow drove him crazy swishing behind you. He missed the giggle you let out when your back finally faced him.
It's not that you didn't find him attractive; you did, his expression was almost unbearable to look at, he was so handsome. The issue was that he knew it, and so did every other girl at Hogwarts.
Mattheo Riddle was many things—prideful arrogant, strong-willed, cunning, greedy—but the worst two were the ones he exploited the most; his intelligence and dashingly good looks. And you knew pride was only attractive until it toed the line of arrogance, which you thought happened when he realized what his last name meant to the world.
Your own pride had already been wounded once, and it was severe. What made it worse was that everybody knew, including Mattheo. Your ex-boyfriend, Adrian, had cheated on you with some trashy part-Veela, who took on the role quite seriously with her pointed nose, sharp chin, and permanently angry glare.
You'd never go out with Mattheo Riddle. You had been chewed up and spit out, but at least you came back. If a girl comes back to reality after dating Mattheo, she usually comes back looking worse for wear.
────୨ৎ────
Was it possible to like you even more?
Obviously, you saying no wasn't a part of his well-thought-out plan, but that wrench you threw into his previously undefeated methodology was, dare he say, attractive?
"She actually said… no?" Enzo looked shocked. "No one has ever told you no! Has anyone ever told any of us no?"
Mattheo huffed. "That's exactly what I said!"
Theo already looked done with this conversation. He glanced up from his book, catching Mattheo's eye. "Did you actually say that?"
He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth. "No, she asked why I was so surprised, and I confirmed it was baffling."
Theo just looked back at his book, blinking slowly.
"Mate," Draco ran a hand down the side of his face. "You Muppet."
It wasn't often that Mattheo ran into situations he didn't know how to handle. Feeling like a fish out of water was not his forté, so righting this terribly wrong situation was going to occur. Sooner rather than later.
"Mattheo, she can't say no forever, right?" Enzo laughed. The boy in question quirked a brow. Safe to say his interest was piqued.
Draco sighed, deeming it a lost cause. Blaise finally made a pained noise. Theo wished he were deaf.
────୨ৎ────
When you walked into potions class, you didn't immediately notice the hulking figure occupying your best friend's seat. You plopped down into your seat, eyes on your nails.
"I really need a manicure," you huffed. "It's getting tragic."
Pansy's voice was husky, but her laugh was not that deep. You craned your neck up slowly, your soft eyes clashing with chocolatey ones you never realized were so velvety smooth.
Mattheo grinned.
"Oh. It's you." You murmured.
He cocked his head. "It's me. Don't sound so ecstatic."
"That seat is taken," you pointed a finger at his stool. "Move to some dark, angsty corner."
"Oh," he feigned confusion, "sorry, I didn't see a name carved anywhere."
Your upper lip twitched. "Pansy's name is actually right there." You ran a finger across the side of the desk, right where Mattheo was sitting. "…Mine is right here. We carved them in our first year."
"Ah, I didn't see it, so it doesn't count."
"That's not how life works."
"It is when you're me," he winked. You grimaced. He regretted saying anything.
"There's that arrogance I love so dearly." You: 1. Mattheo: -2.
You knew Pansy wouldn't actually mind if Mattheo was sitting in her seat because there was a chance you might get some (according to her, you were severely lacking in that category). What happened to chosen celibacy? She had wiggled her brows at you when she stumbled upon a sight she never thought would have a chance in hell. You thought Mattheo purposefully chose not to see it.
He just smiled boyishly, an obvious attempt at getting a rise out of you.
Snape shut you up, his monotonous voice silencing any chance you had of giving Mattheo the retort he deserved. Thankfully, potions were one of your many strengths, and Snape had assigned a fairly easy task, so you would definitely be leaving class early. You'd read about this topic over the summer, preparing for the material before anyone else.
Mattheo offered to grab the ingredients. Your smile was only a little reluctant.
It was no shock to you that Mattheo was smart. He stirred with a practiced ease, and only a little bit of jealousy bubbled up inside of you. Another reason to hate him—you had to slave over books and work to get good grades, but it just came naturally to him.
You almost couldn't believe part of your disdain towards him came from your own insecurity. Fuck.
Your teeth clamped around the fleshy part of your cheek as you watched him do exactly what you said he should. Perfectly. You couldn't even correct him.
"How do you know how to do this so well? No way you actually read over the summer like you're supposed to."
He shrugged, continuing to chop a piece of mandrake root. "Actually, I do. There's not much to do over the summer."
You briefly felt guilty. His father… right. "Oh. Sorry."
Maybe you should be nicer.
"It's alright." Mattheo looked up from the cutting board, eyes shining. "Want to go out with me on Saturday?"
Nevermind. Nice was for losers. "No."
"Worth a shot."
"You're not going to drop this, are you?"
"Never."
You never expected the trajectory of your life to turn down, 'Become Mattheo Riddle's Newest Challenge' lane. If only you knew.
────୨ৎ────
Apparently, it was this serious. You had never seen the same mop of brunette curls so many times within the span of three weeks.
He and his friends had slowly migrated down the Slytherin table to be closer to your group of friends, and when you confronted Mattheo about it in the common room, he claimed a particularly nasty draft of air was now focused solely on his section of the table, practically forcing the five of them to move.
You just stared at him blankly for a few moments, contemplating whether you should take his life or your own. By the grace of Merlin, a bout of self-restraint washed over you, allowing you to grit your teeth and stomp up the stairs.
In divination, ever the doting student, Mattheo asked if Trelawney could focus on topics centered around love, telling the whole class he was having 'issues that desperately needed to be resolved.' He stared at you the whole time he said it.
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and something else you couldn't name. Or chose not to name.
Every time you two were about to part, he'd look at you with eyes glazed over, and ask you to go out sometime. Dread coiled low in your stomach, remembering when you were young and in love with a boy who would later go around and stop on it with some Veela.
It always ended with you saying: "No." Once, a "Merlin, no!" Ending it gracefully with a flick to his forehead. He acted like you had given him a prize.
You knew you had to nip this situation in the bud when a 'no' didn't immediately settle on the tip of your tongue. Thankfully, a boy who looked just like Adrian from behind walked by. You steeled, shoulders straightening out as you said no. But, there was no denying it held less confidence than the previous thousand times you'd said it.
Mattheo knew he was close.
Sure, he liked the chase, but he liked the dynamic the two of you had more. When his life was just him, his father, and his father's associates, things were dull. Going to Hogwarts wasn't just good for the brain; it was good for the soul, too.
After an enlightening conversation with Blaise in their fourth year, he knew good things wouldn't come to him if he chose to stay broody; he'd have to go out and find them.
At first, it was hard. It was no secret that Mattheo thought the good things he needed were a slew of women. He figured out the learning curve was steep very early on.
Luckily, he found that you sat at the top of the curve, waiting for him with that sardonic smile that, if you had asked him three months ago, he wouldn't have admitted made his chest tight.
An unstoppable force meets an immovable object, and in his mind, there was no world where you didn't move a little.
He'd just have to shove harder.
He had never been soft. He got into fights, kept a small circle of friends, and kept his romantic arrangements private, with only one goal in mind: the pleasurable ending.
Yet, Mattheo gathered intel on you like it was his job. The more he learned, the more he liked you.
After successfully sleuthing around and living up to the Slytherin name, he knew that your favorite flowers were Lily of the Valley, your favorite color was pink, you were annoyingly smart, often choosing to stay in the library to study, and, most importantly, why you were so adamantly against dating him.
You had dated Adrian Pucey before he graduated the year prior. The relationship went up in flames after he cheated on you with a girl he met in Mallorca, who claimed to be approximately seven percent Veela and a model. To his delight, he gathered that she was actually neither.
The next time he sought you out, he knew what he had to do—stop acting a fool.
It was late when he found you; he had paused for a smoke break with Theo. By no means was he high, but the slight buzz that tingled under his skin soothed his mind.
You were tangled under a blanket, a book resting limply in your lap, eyes screwed shut in sleep.
It was 12:45 in the morning, no way you were down here willingly. He smiled as he shuffled over to you and tapped your shoulder gently.
You mumbled something incoherent, blinking bleary eyes at him. "Mattheo, wha—?"
"You fell asleep in the common room. It's late. You should go upstairs."
"Ah, oh, that's embarrassing." Your gaze flitted across the common room, your posture relaxing when you realized Mattheo was the only other person there. "Unfortunately, I can't go to my room. Pansy has a girl over. Like, over over."
He walked around the couch, sitting next to you. "That's… nice."
You shrugged. "I told her she could. She's really into her."
"If you want, my bed is free." You sent a dirty look his way. "I'm just joking, I swear."
"Hah, sure." Another look was sent, but it had no bite. You stretched your arms up high, the blanket pooling around your waist. "Honestly, if I were more sleep deprived, you might've gotten a yes."
Mattheo opened his mouth, but you interrupted him. "Not like that."
He laughed, dropping his head forward. His hair fell into his eyes. A new feeling coiled so tight in your gut at the sight that it made your eyes water. A new revelation hit next: you didn't want the knot to loosen or untie. It felt sort of nice.
You tried to reason with yourself. He was being very nice to you, and he had shown more interest than any other guy who had decided you were pretty enough to consider. Maybe the old him was actually going to stay in the past. He hadn't given you any inkling over the past few weeks to think anything different.
Mattheo waved a hand in front of your face, saying your name softly and with a tinge of concern. The kindness in his eyes—something you had never thought was possible with him—made everything feel far too real.
You stood abruptly, "I- I have to go."
"Wait," he grabbed your wrist, "no way I said something wrong."
Your gaze met his hand, which engulfed your wrist. It burned. "You didn't. I'm just- it's just- I'm not very good at this, and I don't like not being good at things. So, now I have to go."
"Good at what?" Mattheo was standing now, too.
"I don't know? This?" You tugged your wrist out of his grip. "I really do have to go."
"Where are you going to go?"
"My dorm?" You questioned, exasperated.
"Your dorm is occupied."
"Occupied? What— oh. Shit." He just stared at you. You'd expected annoyance. You just got tired, hazy eyes that twinkled in the firelight.
"We can go somewhere. Talk or not, it's fine."
You nodded slowly, feeling like you'd choose death over any other possible outcome. You didn't talk for the next 20 minutes. Not when he walked you to the Astronomy Tower, the back of his hand brushing softly against yours with every step, not when he sat you down on the ledge, giving you a perfect view of the Scottish Highlands, and definitely not when you looked over to watch the moonlight wash over his skin.
It was incredibly unfortunate that he liked you. It was more unfortunate that you couldn't admit you liked him, too.
"I'm sorry for the outburst. Really sorry." You murmured finally.
He shook his head. "It's fine. Seriously."
"No, you handled it more gracefully than I would have." You took a deep breath. "I'm sure you heard about what happened last year with Adrian and what he did. I should be over what happened, but I'm not."
"Not over him?" His voice sounded unusually meek.
"No, I'm over that twat, it's what he did. I mean, people talked about it for months. Twist the knife, why don't they? Everyone said she was a Veela and such, and I didn't really take it on the chin. It's hard to deal with being cheated on, but it's harder when everybody knows about it."
"…I have something to tell you about that."
You looked startled. "What?"
"I looked around and found something out about that Veela girl."
"You looked around?"
Mattheo smiled. "She's not really a Veela. She lied. Not a model either. It doesn't get rid of all the hurt, but hopefully some."
You met his gaze. He looked so sincere. "You did that for me?"
"You proved harder to woo than I thought, so I had to gather intel."
"There's more?" You laughed softly.
"You like Lily of the Valley, the color pink, and that weird stationery from that place in Hogsmeade I thought no one ever went to."
Suddenly, the world felt smaller. There were no threats, no looming Transfiguration essays, and no horrid ex-boyfriends. Just Mattheo. And you.
"Don't go soft on me now, Riddle."
"Trust me, I didn't believe it was possible either… Guess it is."
You bit your lip. That evil voice lingering in the back of your mind, telling you this was a bad idea, would just have to wait on you. "Ask me again."
His brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth dipping downwards. "What?"
"Aaaask me."
His smile was pure sunshine, and it felt like looking at powdery white snow in the direct sunlight. So blinding that if you look at it, you have to blink the dots in your vision away.
"...Wanna go out with me sometime?"
You mirrored his expression. "Yes."
"Really?"
"Don't make me regret it."
He moved closer to you until your thighs were touching. His fingers traveled to your chin, turning your face towards his. "I won't," He paused. "Do you think I could kiss you?"
You licked your lips, a wicked grin pulling at them. "No."
He said your name with a forlorn sigh.
"Just kidding."
His mouth was slotted against yours quicker than you could register what was happening. It was soft, and warm, and everything fuzzy.
Mattheo knew you were movable.
SO WHAT I LIKE FLUFF?? also i really hate that trope when the guy likes the girl and just gives up to make her see what she's missing b/c im like a real man would never give up unless she makes it very obvious she has absolutely no interest and hates him lots
no but high key prolly posting smut tmrw (first time i've ever written it so im scared)
bitchy!reader… who is the hottest shade of pink, low cut tops and low rise jeans, body glitter, trashy magazines, high maintenance and very unfitting of the slytherin common room much less the hogwarts environment
bitchy!reader… who lives to make men cry, she’s only partially nice to mattheo (only because he’s really nice to her)
bitchy!reader… who is the meanest bitch in hogwarts but never a mean girl, she is fiercely protective of the few people she holds close
bitchy!reader… who has mattheo following her like a dog on a leash
divider by @leilakittya
bitchy!reader meets the slytherin boys (and mattheo)
bitchy!reader and mattheo meet again
bitchy!reader gets mad at mattheo
mattheo teaches bitchy!reader how to box
bitchy!reader and mattheo dress as regina & rodrick for halloween
bitchy!reader can't sleep, mattheo helps her
mattheo comforts bitchy!reader while she’s on her period
prguitarman
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
