mari ˖ 𐙚 ˖

𝓣om 𝓡iddle ˚.🦴 ᵎᵎ

The Blurry Line Between Love and Hate

𝓜attheo 𝓡iddle ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

R U Mine? - part 1 & part 2

𝓓raco 𝓜alfoy ‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍏 ⋅ ˚✮

Snap Out Of It

𝓝ancy 𝓦heeler ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

Maybe Tomorrow?

𝓜ike 𝓦heeler .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

Mr. Brightside

𝓢teve 𝓗arrington ִֶָ🪽་༘

You Must Be An Angel

wc: 1.2k

warnings: takes place in s4, friends-lovers, slow burn, angst/comfort, and my beautiful writing hehe.

summary: After everything has happened in Hawkins, reader begins distancing from everyone; overwhelmed with grief and unable to move on. But while everyone else seems to be rebuilding their lives, you isolate yourself and convince yourself that nobody notices, except Steve Harrington.

mari's note: i was listening to my most fav song ever 'drive' by the cars and i swear i feel like im living in a 80's movie listening to that song and omg i so happen to imagine steve too man hmm i wonder!!! fic time lol, seriously guys i cannot thank you enough for the love on my fics i acc love ya!!! <33 but nah in all seriousness i love this song and it is very much in need for a angsty steve fic so here u guys go!! also do u guys mind if dont add like "he said" or "she said" bc like lwk less to type but lmk if thats too confusing

masterlist!

The first time Steve realized something was wrong, it wasn't dramatic; no monsters, no earthquakes splitting Hawkins apart, no emergency radio calls.

You just stopped showing up. At first, nobody thought much of it, after everything that had happened, everyone was struggling. Some people threw themselves into work. Others spent all day sleeping. A few pretended everything was normal, but you disappeared; you stopped answering calls, you stopped coming to movie nights, you stopped responding to Robin's increasingly desperate attempts at making you laugh. And after two weeks, Steve couldn't ignore the knot growing in his stomach anymore.

"You've been staring at the phone for ten minutes."

Steve glanced up from behind the Family Video counter and saw that Robin was leaning against a shelf with her arms crossed.

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

"I was thinking."

"About her."

Steve sighed.

Robin smirked.

"Thought so."

The truth was, Steve had been thinking about you constantly. Every time the phone rang, every time the door opened, and every time he drove past your street. He kept expecting things to go back to normal; but they never did and he hated how helpless it made him feel. Because Steve Harrington was good at helping people. He could fight monsters, he could protect kids, he could throw himself directly into danger without thinking twice. But this? Watching someone he cared about slowly disappear? He had no idea what to do.

────୨ৎ────

That night, he found himself parked outside your house. The porch light was off, your bedroom window glowed faintly. So you were home., you just weren't letting anyone in. Steve stared at the house for a long moment before climbing out of the car. The gravel crunched beneath his shoes, his stomach twisted, and then he knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again.

Silence.

A third knock.

Then..

"Go away."

Your voice.

Weak.

Exhausted.

Steve's heart sank.

"No."

A pause.

"Steve."

"Yep."

"I said go away."

"Not happening."

Another pause.

Then,

"Why?"

The question caught him off guard because he couldn't exactly tell you the truth, couldn't tell you he'd spent the last month worrying about you, couldn't tell you that every time he thought about you sitting alone in this house his chest hurt, and definitely couldn't tell you he'd fallen in love with you somewhere between surviving the apocalypse and arguing over terrible movies. So instead he said,

"Because somebody's gotta make sure you're still eating."

Silence.

Then the door opened.

Steve's breath caught.

You looked exhausted; dark circles shadowed your eyes, your shoulders slumped beneath an oversized sweatshirt, and somehow that hurt more than any injury he'd ever seen. Because this wasn't physical, this was something deeper; something he couldn't punch or something he couldn't fix.

"Hey," he said softly.

You looked away.

"Hey."

For a second neither of you spoke.

Then Steve held up the paper bag he'd brought.

"Burgers."

You blinked.

"What?"

"You haven't answered your phone in two weeks."

"Three."

"That's worse."

A tiny smile appeared.

Just for a second.

But Steve saw it and suddenly he felt like maybe the drive over had been worth it.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

You hesitated.

Then stepped aside.

"Fine."

The house felt quiet..too quiet and Steve hated it immediately. The television was off, the curtains were closed and the air felt heavy; like sadness had settled into every corner. You sat on the couch while Steve dropped the food on the coffee table. For several minutes, neither of you said anything. Finally Steve broke the silence.

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

"No."

"Okay."

Another pause.

Then,

"I'm tired."

Steve looked over; you were staring at the floor. Not crying, not even angry, just exhausted.

"I'm so tired, Steve."

The words barely rose above a whisper and somehow they hurt more than if you'd screamed because he understood.

Not exactly.

But enough.

Enough to recognize the look in your eyes; the kind that came from carrying too much for too long and the kind that appeared after surviving things nobody should have to survive.

"I know."

You laughed bitterly.

"No, you don't."

Steve looked down.

Maybe he didn't.

Not completely.

But he knew what it felt like to wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat; to hear sounds that weren't there and to wonder why everyone else seemed to be moving forward while you felt stuck. So he said the only honest thing he could.

"Maybe not."

Your eyes lifted.

"But I know what it's like to feel alone."

The room fell silent like something shifted; not fixed, not healed, just shifted. And sometimes that was enough.

────୨ৎ────

After that night, Steve kept showing up; sometimes with food, sometimes with movies, and sometimes with absolutely no plan whatsoever. At first you barely talked, but he stayed and eventually, little by little, you started talking again.

You started leaving the house, you started laughing. But not all the time, not even most of the time, but enough. Enough for Steve to remember what your smile looked like and enough for hope to return.

Then one night, months later, you found yourselves driving nowhere in particular. The windows were down, the summer air rushed through the car. A song played quietly from the radio. For once, neither of you felt the need to fill the silence. Steve glanced over, you looked peaceful and for a moment he thought about how close he'd come to losing you.

Not to monsters, not to death, just to grief; to loneliness, to the weight of everything and the realization scared him. Because he couldn't imagine a world where you weren't there.

"Steve?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

You looked out the window.

"Why didn't you give up on me?"

The question hit him harder than expected, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel because there were a hundred answers; because he cared, because you mattered, because seeing you hurt felt like someone squeezing his heart, because he loved you. But saying those words felt terrifying. So he took a breath, then another and finally.

"Because I couldn't."

You turned toward him.

"What does that mean?"

Steve laughed nervously.

"It means..."

He swallowed.

"It means I care about you."

Your expression softened.

"Steve—"

"No, let me finish before I chicken out."

You smiled.

Steve's heart nearly stopped.

Then he said the thing he'd been carrying for months.

"The truth is, I think I fell in love with you a long time ago."

Silence.

The longest silence of his life, every nerve in his body screamed. Then suddenly you laughed, not because it was funny but because you were crying.

Happy tears.

Relieved tears.

The kind that came after holding something inside for too long.

"You idiot."

Steve blinked.

"What?"

"I've been in love with you for months."

For a second neither of you moved.

Then Steve pulled the car to the side of the road.

"Seriously?"

You nodded.

"Seriously."

The grin that spread across his face was unstoppable and before either of you could overthink it, you leaned forward and kissed him.

Soft.

Warm.

Real.

When you finally pulled away, Steve rested his forehead against yours. The stars glittered overhead, the radio continued playing quietly, and for the first time in a very long time, everything felt okay.

Not perfect, the scars were still there, the memories still existed. Healing wasn't finished, maybe it never would be, but neither of you had to face it alone anymore and as Steve started the car again and reached for your hand, one thought settled comfortably in his chest.

creds4divider:

wc: 1.3k

summary: mike wheeler becomes consumed by jealousy when he misreads your friendship with Jason Carver as something more, spiraling into emotional turmoil he can’t control. When he finally confronts you, he admits his feelings and realizes his jealousy was rooted in insecurity and unspoken love rather than reality.

(this fic is based off the song mr.brightside lol + saw a robin buckley edit to this song hmm should i make a robin fic???👀)

mari's note: lit can barely find any mike fics lately so what do i decide to do..make my own!!! i also tried a new verison of writing, as im staying up more and more im trying to find ways to write faster and make my hands hurt less 💔and i thought the song mr. brightside was the perfect choice yk anyways lmk if u guys want more mike!!

Jealousy wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Mike had always imagined it as something simple. A passing annoyance. A brief irritation.

Not this.

Not the way his chest tightened every time he saw you with someone else.

Not the way he caught himself searching every crowded room for you before he'd even said hello to his friends.

Not the way he could spend an entire day convincing himself he didn't care—wait he didn't right..well whatever.

Only to watch you smile at another guy and feel his stomach drop straight through the floor.

It had started months ago, though Mike couldn't pinpoint exactly when.

Maybe it was during the countless nights in his basement, the air heavy with the sound of dice rolling and Dustin arguing too loudly about rules nobody actually followed. You always showed up without warning, like you belonged there more than half the party did.

Maybe it was the first time you stole his wristwatch mid-game just to tease him, laughing when he tried to grab it back.

Or maybe it was smaller than that. Something quieter. Something worse.

The way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention.

Whatever it was, it had happened slowly.

So slowly Mike hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

Until everything felt different.

Until every accidental touch lingered too long.

Until every smile felt like something he was supposed to earn.

And now

Now you were standing across the hallway at Hawkins High, leaning against the lockers, laughing at something Jason Carver had just said.

Jason Carver.

Of course.

Mike’s grip tightened around the strap of his backpack.

He told himself to walk away.

He didn’t.

Jason said something else, something that made you laugh again, brighter this time, head tilting back slightly like you didn’t have a care in the world.

Mike felt it twist in his chest.

Stupid.

He turned sharply, forcing himself to move, to breathe, to think about literally anything else.

But his brain didn’t cooperate.

Because it kept replaying the same image.

You.

Him.

Close.

Too close.

The rest of the hallway blurred around Mike as he walked, like the world had decided to narrow itself down to that one moment.

He hated it.

He hated Jason for existing.

He hated himself more for caring.

And worst of all, he hated the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you were happier when he wasn’t around.

That night, the basement felt colder than usual.

The party was normal. Loud. Chaotic. Familiar.

Dustin was yelling about something involving the campaign. Lucas was arguing back. Someone had turned on music too loud.

But Mike wasn’t listening.

He was watching you again.

You were on the couch this time, sitting between Max and Dustin, knees pulled up slightly, laughing at something Lucas had said from across the room.

And just like earlier, Jason Carver was there too.

Standing too close.

Leaning in when he talked.

Mike felt his jaw tighten.

He told himself it didn’t matter.

That you could talk to whoever you wanted.

That it was none of his business.

But then Jason said something that made you smile in that softer way the one Mike didn’t think he’d ever seen directed at him and something in Mike snapped quietly.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just enough to hurt.

He stood up too fast.

Dustin glanced at him. “Dude, where are you—”

“Bathroom,” Mike muttered, already heading upstairs.

He didn’t look back.

In the hallway, the house was quieter.

Mike leaned against the wall, trying to breathe normally.

It didn’t work.

His thoughts kept looping.

You laughing.

You leaning in.

You not looking at him.

He pressed a hand to his face.

“This is so stupid,” he whispered to himself.

Because it was.

It wasn’t like you were his.

You weren’t anything.

Just a friend.

Just someone who happened to matter too much.

Footsteps sounded behind him.

Mike stiffened before he even turned around.

Of course.

Of course it was you.

“You okay?” you asked.

Your voice was calm. Soft. Concerned.

That made it worse.

Mike forced himself to look at you.

You were still smiling a little, but it had shifted like you’d noticed something was off.

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. “I’m fine.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t look fine.”

“I am.”

A pause.

You studied him for a second longer than he could stand.

Then you stepped closer.

That was the problem.

You were always stepping closer.

Like it didn’t affect him.

Like it didn’t rearrange something inside his chest every single time.

“You’ve been weird tonight,” you said gently.

“I haven’t.”

Another pause.

Then, quieter: “Is it me?”

That stopped him.

Mike blinked.

“What?”

“You’re avoiding me,” you said. “Or something. I don’t know. You just... you feel… distant.”

Distant.

If only you knew how close you actually were to wrecking him.

Mike looked away.

“It’s nothing.”

But his voice cracked on the last word.

Silence.

Heavy.

Then you sighed softly.

“I don’t like Jason like that, you know.”

Mike froze.

That wasn’t what he expected.

At all.

“What?” he said, turning back.

You shrugged slightly. “You’ve been staring at us all night like… I don’t know. Like something’s wrong.”

Mike felt heat rise in his face instantly.

“I wasn’t staring.”

You gave him a look.

He sighed sharply. “Okay, fine, maybe I was—but that’s not— I don’t—”

He stopped.

Because suddenly it all felt too loud in his head.

Too messy.

Too obvious.

You tilted your head slightly. “Mike…”

And that was it.

That was the moment everything he’d been holding in just… collapsed.

“I don’t like watching you with him,” he said, the words coming out faster than he meant. “Okay? I don’t like it. I don’t like any of it.”

You went still.

Mike swallowed hard.

“I know it’s stupid. I know it doesn’t matter. But I can’t.. can’t stop thinking about it, and I hate it, because I know I don’t have any right to feel like that, but I do.”

His voice dropped.

“I do.”

Silence again.

But this one felt different.

Less heavy.

More fragile.

You stared at him for a long moment.

Then you blinked.

“Mike,” you said slowly. “Jason and I are just friends.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“But that’s not the point,” you added.

His stomach tightened again.

Of course.

Of course he ruined it anyway.

You stepped closer..again but this time it didn’t feel like torture.

It felt like something else entirely.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked quietly.

Mike’s throat went dry.

Because he couldn’t say it.

Not easily.

Not cleanly.

Not without feeling like he was jumping off something he couldn’t take back.

But he looked at you anyway.

Really looked.

And the truth came out anyway.

“Because it’s you.”

Your expression shifted slightly.

Confusion.

Then understanding.

Slow.

Careful.

Dangerous.

Mike exhaled shakily.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he admitted. “But I just—I can’t stop.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then you smiled.

Small.

Soft.

Different from earlier.

“You’re kind of terrible at this, you know,” you said.

Mike blinked. “At what?”

“Feelings,” you said simply.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. I noticed.”

You stepped closer again, and this time Mike didn’t move away.

“This is a really bad version of Mr. Brightside,” you said lightly.

Mike frowned. “What?”

You shook your head. “Never mind.”

Then, quieter.

“You could’ve just told me.”

His heart stopped.

“I just did,” he said.

You smiled again.

And this time, it stayed.

Back in the basement later, the music was still too loud.

Dustin was still arguing.

Lucas was still laughing.

But Mike wasn’t watching you from a distance anymore.

You were sitting beside him now.

Closer than before.

And for the first time all night

The jealousy was gone.

Not because nothing had changed.

But because finally, something had.

credits 4 divider:

wc: 1.3k

warnings: just a bit of tooth rot lol, cutiesss, but reader is lwk depressed.

summary: what starts as a harmless crush slowly becomes something deeper as she gets to know the real Steve: kind, funny, and far more vulnerable than his reputation suggests. As their friendship grows into love, she can't help but wonder if Steve entered her life by chance or if he was the angel she needed all along.

(this fic is based on the song Angel by Maddona!! i luv that song)

mari's note: loveeeeee this concept, whenever i listen to this song i think of steve's character lol

The summer of 1986 felt wrong, not in the dramatic end-of-the-world way Hawkins had become famous for. Just wrong like wearing someone else's sweater or like listening to a song that kept skipping before your favorite part. Every morning,Y/N woke up hoping the feeling would disappear but every morning, it stayed. The days blurred together after that; family video, home, work, sleep, repeat. She wasn't sure when I'd stopped looking forward to things, perhaps it was after graduation, maybe after everyone started leaving, or just maybe realizing that growing up wasn’t as exciting as she thought it was. Whatever the reason was, she spent most of her summers wandering through Hawkins like a ghost. Until she met Steve Harrington.

Well.

Not met.

Not exactly.

The first time Y/N saw him, he was chasing a group of kids down the sidewalk outside the family video.

"Get back here!" he shouted.

The kids only laughed harder, so hard that nearly one of them nearly ran into her.

"Sorry!" the kid yelled before disappearing around a corner.

A second later Steve stopped beside her, completely out of breath.His hair was a mess, his shirt was untucked, and he looked exhausted.

"Sorry about that." He said in exhaustion.

She could only blink.

"What?" Y/N questioned

"The miniature demons." Steve said while pointing in the direction the kids had gone.

"They escaped again." Steve said while smiling.

She suddenly laughed at Steve. The sound of her laughter surprised both of them which only made Steve grin. And something strange happened, because for the first time in months, the world didn’t feel quite heavy.

“Well,” she continued, “good luck catching them” ending her speech with a smile.

"Thanks." Steve said and then started jogging away but then stopped and turned around

"And hey?" He started off.

"Yeah?" She replied.

"If you see them again, tell them their babysitter is emotionally devastated." Steve said jokingly.

This only made Y/N laugh a second time which only made his grin even wider before he left and disappeared around the corner.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

That should have been the end of it, but instead he kept showing up everywhere; at the grocery store, at the diner, walking down Main Street, helping old ladies carry their bags, and giving rides to kids who couldn’t even drive. The more she saw him, the less he matched the stories people used to tell surrounding him. 

King Steve.

The popular guy.

The jerk.

But that version didn't seem to exist anymore, because now this Steve was different, he was more softer, kinder, and sadly enough lonelier. Sometimes she’d catch herself staring off into space when he thought nobody was looking, like he was carrying something invisible, something heavy. And she understood that feeling, maybe that’s what she kept noticing him.

Or maybe it was because every time her day started going badly, Steve somehow appeared. Like fate had a weird sense of humor.

"And my sadness disappears, every time you are near"

Like one afternoon she was sitting alone at the park trying and well mostly failing to read a book because the words just kept blurring together and her attention focusing on the way the grass and flowers were moving because of the wind. She didn’t hear Steve approach until his shadow fell across the page.

"You know," he said, "most people turn pages occasionally."

She looked up.

And there he was, holding two sodas, and flashing that angel-like smile. Y/N must’ve been staring too much because she heard him laugh.

"What?" He questioned.

"Nothing." She replied quickly.

"You're staring." He said, narrowing his eyes jokingly, as if he was trying to decipher her.

"No I'm not." She said sheepishly.

"You definitely are." Steve said.

That made her face flush in embarrassment, Steve chuckled again and handed her one of the sodas.

"Here." He said.

"Why?" She said in slight hesitation.

"Because I accidentally bought two." He said smiling.

"You expect me to believe that?" She said teasingly, not once believing him.

"No." He says while opening the soda can.

"Good." She smiled, soon opening hers.

He then sat beside her and for a while neither of them spoke up, the silence wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable. Easy, the kind of silence that usually took years to build, and then finally Steve broke the silence and leaned back against the bench.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He asked.

"Depends." Y/N replies.

"I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing." He admits.

"What do you mean?" She says while furrowing her brows in confusion.

Steve could only shrug.

"Everyone acts like once you're an adult, suddenly everything makes sense." He says while picking at his soda can.

"Does it not?" She asks genuinely.

"No." He says in an instant.

"Great." She says in a joking manner, trying to lighten up the mood.

"I know." He says and looks over at her.

"And honestly?" He says slowly.

"Yeah?" She asks while making eye contact with him.

"You seem like you needed a laugh." He says honestly.

The smile faded from her face, because somehow he’d notice, not the fake version of her. The real one, the tired one, the sad one she spent all summer trying to hide. This only made Steve’s expression soften.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong." He says quietly.

"Okay." She says it matches his exact tone.

"But if you ever want to..." His voice trailed off.

She could only  look down at the soda in her hands. Maybe it was because nobody had really asked her that in a long time, nobody had really seen her in a long time, and suddenly she understood why people wrote songs about certain people. Why they compared them to the stars, to miracles, and to angels. Because no one talks about someone walks into your life at exactly the right moment, not to save you, not to fix everything, but just to remind you that you’re not alone.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

The rest happened slowly; late-night drives with Steve, sharing secrets beneath parking lot lights, learning the stories hidden behind his smile and letting him learn hers. Then somewhere along the way, the friendship became something more. Not all at once, but little by little, like a sunrise. One night Y/N and Steve sat on the hood of his BMW overlooking Hawkins, the town lights glittering below them, with the radio playing softly in the background. But Steve seemed to be nervous which was strange because Steve Harrington was never nervous.

"What?" Y/N slowly asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I've been trying to figure out how to say this for like two weeks." Steve says hesitantly.

"Oh." she says while her heart starts beating faster.

"Yeah." He says.

"That bad?" She asks.

"Potentially catastrophic." Steve replies back jokingly.

That made Y/N laugh, because he seemed to be acting a bit normal now, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he’s trying to say.

Steve took a breath, then another, turned to look at her, and smiled; the kind of smile that makes everything else disappear.

"I think I fell in love with you." Steve finally admits.

The world went completely still; no cars, no wind, no music. Just Steve waiting, hopeful, terrified even. But beautiful, like an angel that had somehow gotten lost and ended up in Hawkins, Indiana. That made Y/N smile before she could even stop herself.

"Good." She says, after what seems awhile.

Steve blinked.

"Good?" He asks in confusion.

"Because I think I fell in love with you too." She answers.

For a second he simply stared, then he laughed; the happiest laugh she’d ever heard and somehow hearing it felt like home. Maybe life would still be messy, maybe growing up would still be scary, or maybe tomorrow would still hurt sometimes. But sitting beside Steve beneath a sky full of stars made Y/N realize something, that the summer didn’t feel wrong anymore; it felt exactly right.

credits 4 divider:

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

part 1 -> part 2

wc: 1.5k

warnings: drinking, some allusions to smut! (but no smut!; not trained enough lol), the word casual..., not sure what else but lmk!

summary: 𝓜atheo Marvolo Riddle never found himself interested in relationships, too intimate and committed for him. Not until he meets Y/N Morvane at a Slytherin party, after that the two start a casual relationship. Mattheo finds himself addicted to her and completely under her control and finds himself wanting more.

(I lwk suck at summaries but its basically about the song meaning)

mari's note: omg tysm for the love on the last one!! 🥹 can't wait for u guys to enjoy my next few projects!! but heres part 2!!

Casual.

Noncommittal.

Easy.

That was what they had agreed on, and for a while, it almost worked or at least, that’s what Mattheo told himself. It started small, as it always did: sitting closer than necessary in the common room, sharing drinks at parties, late-night walks that somehow always ended at the same place, and the library table that was suddenly “reserved” for two people who never studied anything. No one else was allowed to call it anything, not even them especially not them. But rules had a way of changing when you stopped pretending they weren’t breaking.

It was a Thursday when it started to fall apart. Mattheo found her first in an empty corridor outside Potions, leaning against the stone wall with her arms crossed and an unreadable expression.

“Where were you last night?” he asked.

Y/N didn’t look up immediately.

“That’s new.”

“What?”

“That tone.” He stepped closer.

“I texted you.”

“I know.”

“And?”

“I didn’t answer.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should’ve. Mattheo exhaled slowly.

“Why not?”

Now she looked at him, really looked at him and something in his chest tightened at what he saw there: not anger, not indifference, but distance.

“You’re starting to act like I owe you something,” she said quietly.

The words landed sharp. Mattheo laughed once, but there was no humor in it.

“That’s funny coming from you.”

“I told you exactly what this was.”

“I know what you said.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

He hesitated, because that was the problem. He didn’t have a clean answer anymore. Somewhere between stolen kisses in empty corridors and laughing too hard at stupid jokes at 2 a.m., “casual” had stopped making sense and he hadn’t noticed when it happened.

“You’ve been pulling away,” he said finally.

Y/N tilted her head. “I’ve been consistent.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is.”

The silence returned, not empty but full of everything neither of them was saying. Mattheo stepped closer, then stopped himself, because for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“You said no expectations,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

Something flickered across her expression fast, gone immediately but he saw it, and that made it worse.

She pushed off the wall. “You’re not losing me.”

“Then what is this?”

“It’s what we agreed on.”

Mattheo shook his head. “No. This isn’t what I agreed to.”

That made her still, uncertain in a way that didn’t suit her.

“You were fine with it,” she said.

“I wasn’t fine,” he replied immediately.

“I was avoiding thinking about it.” The honesty hung between them, raw and unfiltered.

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “That sounds like your problem.”

“It is..and yours,” he added.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t have a problem.”

“You do. You’re just pretending you don’t.”

For a moment neither spoke, the corridor suddenly too small and too quiet.

Then Y/N laughed sharp, disbelieving. “You think I’m pretending?”

Mattheo didn’t answer right away, because the truth was messier. He didn’t think she was pretending he thought she was surviving it better than he was, and he hated that, and himself.

“Yes,” he said anyway.

She looked at him like he’d crossed a line she hadn’t said out loud.

“Mattheo, this was never—” “I know what it was,” he cut in, quieter now, less defensive, more tired.

“But it stopped being that.”

The silence that followed was heavier, dangerous. Y/N looked away first, and that told him everything.

“I can’t do this,” she said finally.

Mattheo’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“I can’t keep doing this if you’re going to—” she stopped, then exhaled, “feel things.”

The word sounded foreign. Mattheo let out a broken laugh.

“Yeah. Apparently I made a mistake there.”

She flinched, just slightly. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?, you want fair now?” he repeated.

“I told you what this was.”

“And I told you I agreed,” his voice cracked at the edges.

“Do you honestly think I still agree?”

That question lingered. Y/N finally looked at him again, and for a second the mask slipped.

“I didn’t ask you to change it,” she said.

“No,” Mattheo replied. “I did that myself.”

The admission hung like something fragile already breaking. She swallowed, then nodded once.

“Then we stop.”

Two words.

Simple.

Final.

Mattheo didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t breathe properly. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an ending. Still, he tried.

“You’re just saying that because you’re scared.”

Her expression hardened. “No. I’m saying it because I was right.”

“Right about what?”

“That this always ends the same way with someone wanting more.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty; it was realization. She hadn’t been pulling away she’d been bracing for impact.

“You think I’m going to leave,” he said slowly.

She didn’t answer, and that was enough.

“No,” Mattheo said, shaking his head.

“That’s not what this is.” But even as he said it, he needed her to believe him.

Y/N stepped back.

“Casual doesn’t turn into forever, Mattheo.”

His chest tightened.

“It can.”

She gave a small, sad smile.

“Not for people like us.”

Then she turned and walked away with no dramatic exit, no final words, just footsteps fading down the corridor. Mattheo stayed where he was, staring at the empty space she left behind, because for the first time he understood something clearly: he hadn’t lost a casual arrangement he’d lost the only thing that had ever felt real.

Y/N had already turned away, already started walking, already made the decision for both of them. Mattheo stood frozen for half a second too long, watching the space where she used to be like his mind hadn’t caught up yet. Then it did.

“Y/N.”

Her steps slowed, but didn’t stop.

“Y/N please wait.”

Still nothing.

“Stop.”

That finally made her pause in the middle of the corridor. She didn’t turn at first. Just stood there, still and distant, like she was already halfway gone.

Mattheo caught up to her, breath slightly uneven. For a moment neither of them spoke. The corridor felt too quiet, too final.

Y/N finally glanced over her shoulder. “What.”

Not angry.

Not soft.

Just done.

That tone almost made him lose his nerve. Because it wasn’t hate. It was resignation.

“I can’t do this,” she’d said earlier. And he’d almost believed her.

But now, standing here, he realized something worse: he couldn’t either.

“I don’t want casual,” he said.

Y/N let out a quiet breath. “I know.”

But that wasn’t what he meant.

“I don’t want you casual.”

Silence hit immediately after.

Heavy.

Absolute.

Y/N blinked like she hadn’t expected that answer. “Mattheo—”

“No,” he cut in, shaking his head once. “You don’t get to leave like that.”

That made her turn fully.

“What do you want from me?”

The question should’ve been simple but it wasn’t.

Mattheo stared at her for a long moment before exhaling like he’d been holding it in for months.

“I don’t want casual anymore,” he said.

“I tried. I really tried to keep it simple, but you made it impossible.”

“Don’t put this on me,” she said quietly.

“I’m not.” His voice softened slightly. “I’m telling you I failed.”

That made her go still.

“I don’t know when it changed,” he admitted. “But it stopped being an arrangement. And I didn’t notice until I was already…” He stopped, jaw tightening. “Already yours.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was loaded. Like something had finally been said out loud that couldn’t be taken back.

Y/N’s breath caught slightly, but she didn’t speak.

Mattheo stepped closer, slower now. “I was already yours,” he repeated, quieter. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

That made her look at him differently. Less defensive. More uncertain.

“You’re not supposed to say that,” she murmured.

“I’m not supposed to say a lot of things,” he replied. “Like feelings.”

A faint, disbelieving laugh left her, but it didn’t have any real humor in it.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Like feelings.”

“But I’m done not saying them,” Mattheo added.

That settled between them like something irreversible.

Y/N looked at him for a long moment, then finally said, “That’s not fair.”

“I know,” he admitted immediately.

“And if I stay—” she started.

“I’m not asking you to stay,” he interrupted.

That made her pause.

“I’m asking you not to leave because you think you already know how this ends.”

Silence stretched again. Longer this time.

Then Y/N exhaled, slower. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told.”

Her eyes searched his face carefully, like she was trying to find a safe version of this conversation. There wasn’t one.

“Casual doesn’t work for me,” she admitted quietly.

“Me neither,” Mattheo said immediately.

Another pause.

Then she stepped forward..just one step closing the distance she’d been creating for weeks without realizing it.

“Then what does?” she asked.

Mattheo didn’t hesitate this time.

“I don’t know yet,” he said honestly. “But I want to figure it out with you.”

Y/N studied him for a moment longer.

Then she reached out, grabbing the front of his shirt lightly and pulling him just slightly closer.

“Next time,” she said softly, “don’t run your mouth about arrangements.”

A faint breath of a laugh escaped him. “Noted.”

“And no more casual speeches.”

“I think I retired those.”

“Good,” she murmured.

A pause.

Then, quieter: “Because I don’t think I can do casual anymore either.”

Something in his chest finally eased at that.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me neither.”

And for the first time, neither of them walked away.

part 1 out of part 2

wc: 1.7k

warnings: drinking, some allusions to smut! (but no smut!; not trained enough lol), the word casual..., not sure what else but lmk!

summary: 𝓜atheo Marvolo Riddle never found himself interested in relationships, too intimate and committed for him. Not until he meets Y/N Morvane at a Slytherin party, after that the two start a casual relationship. Mattheo finds himself addicted to her and completely under her control and finds himself wanting more.

(I lwk suck at summaries but its basically about the song meaning)

mari's note: was getting ready tdy and R U Mine came on and instantly thought of him and like i need to write about him, lwk might do draco with another song on this album!!! is anyone else going thru their draco/harry potter phase again?!! + tysm for the love on the last one!

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Casual.

Noncommittal.

Easy.

At least thats what Mattheo Riddle told himself. Relationships were messy, they came with unfulfilled promises, expectations, and obligations he had no interest in keeping. He'd seen enough of them to know they never ended well, like the relationship his best mate Theodore Nott had with this Ravenclaw. People became possesive, demanding, or completely ruined. So he spent years avoiding them, filling that hole with meaningless hookups and entertaining the girls flawking themselves towards him. I mean Mattheo was once in a while curious about the thought of a girlfriend, I mean the thought of being so dependent on somebody did frighten him a bit- he couldn't deny that but someone adoring him, loving him, that much left him with an ache.

The Slytherin Common Room was overflowing with students, the smell of firewhiskey, the music so loud it was making the cold stone walls shake as the laughter and conversations blended into an unbearable noise. To contrary belief, Mattheo hated parties but yet somehow he always ended up at them. Theo was beside him saying something that was about that Ravenclaw named Chiara? or Emma? No clue. On the other side of him Blaise was laughing at Pansy and her "cool" dance moves, but Mattheo wasn't listening. His attention being somewhere else or on someone else. Across the room, across the swarm of drunk people dancing and singing along to the music stood Y/N Morvane. She wasn't doing anything that was worth his attention, she wasn't even trying or even looking at him, and that somehow was worse. His gaze lingering longer than he should've, so what was it that had him curious? The way she was tilting her head when listening to something her friend said over the music? The way she flashed her gorgeous smile?

"Careful...you might burn a hole through her" Theo said beside him, catching Mattheo red-handed.

Mattheo looked away.

"Shush, I'm not even staring at her" Mattheo grumbled, clearly embarrassed he got caught.

"Right" Theo replied with visible disbelief.

"So you haven't been staring at for her the past," Theo looks at his pretend watch on his wrist, "what like 2 minutes?".

Mattheo scoffed, he was annoyed; annoyed that Theo wasn't entirely wrong, because for the first time Mattheo Riddle found himself interested. And he had no idea why.

Later that evening Mattheo found himself trying to avoid looking across the room, failing each time. He decided to call it a night after Theo kept teasing him about it which riled him up even more, cause Theo? His best mate, teasing HIM? The audacity that guy had, it almost made him laugh. Lying in his dorm bed he thought more about her. Y/N Morvane. He tried not to, thinking of the next quidditch match with Hufflepuff but couldn't. It actually infuriated him, or did it? And with that he closed his eyes.

────୨ৎ────

Three weeks.

Three weeks since that party.

Three weeks since he couldn't stop thinking about her.

And the worst part? She didn't seem to be looking at him at all. Passing by him with no second glance, with no smile, ignoring his presence. That was until the party that was in celebration of Slytherin winning the quidditch match against Hufflepuff. It was always the same.

Loud.

Reckless.

And fun.

All of what Mattheo lived by, but with the girl that has been plaguing his thoughts? He can't help but decide to do something about it. He can do it right? Of course he can! He's Mattheo Marvolo Riddle, girls adored him and boys envied him. Right?

While thinking about this, he eyes instinctively looked for her around the common room, looking for her through the sea of drunk people, until he finds her. The flashing lights catching her face, those eyes, those lips, everything. (Cocteau Twins mention hehe) There she was, leaning against the stone wall, listening to her friends complain about whatever guy or thing in their live, still not doing anything to get attention. Yet Mattheo couldn't help but still look at her again. Oblivious to the scene around him, the way his friends tried to get his attention.

"Hey mate," Theo said but slowly ended his speech when following Mattheo gaze," dude again?".

Mattheo immediately looked at Theo.

Theo's face turning into a big grin, that irritated Mattheo.

"Don't" Mattheo immediately said while shaking his head.

"You're interested huh?" Theo said clearing enjoying Mattheo's denial.

"No" Mattheo said in hesitation.

"You absolutely are!" Theo laughed while shoving his shoulder against Mattheo's.

Mattheo scoffed, but strangely didn't deny Theo's accusation.

"Go talk to her" Theo randomly blurted out.

Mattheo looked at Theo like he was crazy.

"What? Why?" Mattheo questioned.

"Um well hm let me think-well you been looking at her again for the past 5 minutes!" Theo exclaimed.

Mattheo considered telling Theo to shut up but instead his eyes drifted. back to her, but only this time. She was looking back at him. Neither of them looked away, something felt different this time like she knew what he was doing. Then suddenly Y/N lifted her drink in acknowledgment which made Mattheo smirk.

Interesting.

Considering the fact he was had 2 firewhiskey shots only moments before and Theo's wonderful encouragement- why not? And so Mattheo did something he never thought he would do. He got up from his seat with his friends and mumbling something about needing air and crossed the room to her. Mattheo stopped right in front of her, ignoring the stares from her friends which soon got the hint and left. He got a closer look at her, even more beautiful in person and even smelt good.

"You're staring" Y/N said in a teasing tone, catching Mattheo off guard at her comment. Y/N looked amused which made Mattheo let out a small laugh.

"You noticed?" Mattheo asked while that grin came out.

"Hard not to" She replied smiling even wider after noticing his grin.

Mattheo noticed her smile and for some reason that felt like victory.

"Mattheo Riddle" He introduced himself, not knowing what else to say.

"Y/N Morvane" She says in an amused tone while tilting her head.

"I know who you are" She said smirking.

"So do I" Mattheo replies clearly distracted by her smile.

"So why introduce yourself?" She questioned.

Mattheo opened his mouth to say something, then paused. He thought about her question and asked himself why he even did that because he genuinely didn't know. This made her laugh softly, that sound being unexpectedly nice to the ears of Mattheo.

"You're not as smooth as people say" Y/N says clearly amused.

"Careful now" Mattheo replies smirking.

"Or what huh?" Y/N challenges.

The very same challenging tone in her voice only made him grin wider. Then for the next hour they talked, talked, and talked. And somehow neither of them left, the party blurring around them, the music becoming background noise. People moving around them, coming and going but they remained exactly where they were. Trading sarcastic comments and insults disguised as conversation, smiles going back and forth, and somehow it all felt normal. By midnight, Mattheo had learned two things; first, Y/M was far more funny than she looked and second, she was completely intoxicating to the point it was impossible to stop. Which only made him want to keep talking to her, eventually they found themselves sitting on one of the empty couches near the fireplace. The crow had thinned, most people were either dancing or too drunk to notice anything else. She stretched her legs out in front of her.

"You know," she slowly said, "I expected you to be worst".

Mattheo dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

"That hurts" He joked.

"You'll survive" She sarcastically said.

"Probably" He replied while looking at her.

Silence settled between them, but the kind that was comfortable, unexpectedly comfortable. She slowly stared into her drink and finally glanced up toward him making eye contact.

"So." She said breaking the silence.

"So." Mattheo replied, unsure of what to come next.

"Let me guess." She goes on.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow.

"You don't do relationships." She says completely honest.

Mattheo nearly choked from her honesty and that made her grin slightly.

"I knew it." She remarked.

"How?" Mattheo replied in a unsure tone.

"Because every guy who says relationships are pointless thinks they're original." She says like she already knew about guys like him.

That could only make Mattheo chuckle.

"Fair." He said in a low tone.

"And am I wrong?" She questioned, but sounded like she already knew the answer.

"No." He answered honestly, not expecting her to read him like an open book.

"There it is." She pointed at him triumphantly.

Mattheo shook his head.

"What about you?" He asked curiously.

"What about me?" She teased.

"You do relationships?" He said.

Y/N immediately grimaced, which surprised Mattheo a bit.

"No." She said strongly.

"Really?" He questioned, not knowing if she was joking or not.

"I'm busy." She simply said.

"That's your reason?" He asked smiling at her reason.

"It's a perfectly good reason." Y/N said while smiling.

That made Mattheo smile and then a idea struck him before he could stop it; dangerous, probably stupid, but interesting.

"What if we skipped all that?" Mattheo said out of the blue.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, slightly surprised at Mattheo's response.

"Skipped what?" She asked clearly intrigued.

"The whole relationship part." He said.

Y/N studied him carefully, the waiting, the silence. Made Mattheo move in anticipation, leaning back against the couch.

"No expectations, no labels, no dramatic declarations of love" He listed off to make it more clear.

That only made Y/N laugh.

"You sound rehearsed." She said while smiling.

"I've had the speech ready for years." He replied back sarcastically.

"I'm sure you have." She said while taking a sip of her long forgotten drink.

He grinned and for a moment she could simply watch him, considering his offer, thinking about it. Until she held out her hand.

"Fine." She finally said.

Mattheo blinked.

"Fine?" He questioned.

"Casual." Y/N simply said.

The word hung between them.

"Casual," she repeated.

"No strings, no expectations, no unnecessary feelings, casual" She listed out in the same way Mattheo did only moments before.

Mattheo grabbed her hand and shook it.

"Deal." He said firmly.

Neither of them noticed Theo and Blaise watching from across the room. Neither of them noticed the knowing looks exchanged between them, because if there was one thing everyone else could see immediately. It was that two people who spent an entire party unable to stop looking at each other were never going to stay casual for long.

tags:

wc: ~3.1k

warnings: not too bad, some stalking, tom being tom, lwk more of a cat and mouse game. ( i finished this @ 3am )

summary: The story of Tom Riddle and Y/N Bellator, both being Head Boy and Girl of the Slytherin house, where in different situations they find out about each other more and more until it leads to something dangerous. Remember this is not a love story, but the dangers of someone understanding Tom Riddle too well, and the dangerous of Tom Riddle slowly coming into obsession.

mari's note: i havent wrote a fic in 4eva maybe will do a part 2 for the nancy one but school is over now so i have more time to larp!! but ive been reading tom riddle fanfic since 7th grade and randomly thought why thought why not make one hehe. I lwk dont know where i was trying to go for this fic but pls enjoy!! ;p and remember im not a pro writer!! I just write for fun from time to time and I do it a an enjoyable hobby!! <33

𝓗ate

Loathe.

Vulnerability.

Weakness.

Tom Riddle had a strong view of love by the age of 8, the emptiness of the orphanage; the cruel kids, the wretched caregivers, and the realization of his mother's abandonment. Tom despised love or any emotion close to that, why would he allow such emotion to take over him? His weak mother died because of it, so why should he fall into temptation. Until he learned the advantages of this great emotion, the power it has over a person, and how he can use that power to get what he wants. How can anyone say no to his charm? His persuasive tactics? Or his intelligence? It is so easy for everyone to be distracted by love, you won't notice the dangerous and risk until it's too late. Until Tom discovers her.

Y/N Bellator the head girl of Slytherin. Tom knew of her, of course he did; he knew of everyone in the Slytherin house because of his prefect position. She was the perfect pureblood daughter, everything Tom envied even starting to hate her. She wasn't like any other students in Hogwarts. She was smart, well-mannered, beautiful, and- well Tom couldn't describe much of her, she was the mystery he couldn't solve, unlike any other person he'd ever known. It left him curious, maybe even undone.

Y/N wasn't like any girl.. no no no. She was different, she didn't look at Riddle like she wanted to fix him, she didn't look at him in admiration or even love, no.. she had the look of hatred; like she knew more than she led on, more than anyone else knew..she looked at Tom like she saw behind the mask he puts on that everyone else knows of. Behind the charms of the head boy of Slytherin. And Tom knew that, of course he did, and he hated it. Hated that she caught on before anyone else did or could. But Y/N, what did she hate about Tom? Why would anyone hate the respectable wizard Tom Riddle? The one everyone adored, who even the professors adored?

Y/N couldn't quite place it first, she was an observer; she could practically read everyone like a book. But Tom was something that she couldn't quite read and it made her uneasy or maybe even curious? She always knew that someone as charming as Riddle couldn't seem all perfect, everyone had their weaknesses and flaws. It didn't help that he was also head boy of Slytherin, and half of the students and professors were quite fond of him. Yet, every time they had to meet up for their patrols something twisted in her stomach, and she knew it wasn't in a good way, call it instinct or a gut feeling. She saw his expressions, how they always arrived a minute too late, too calculated to be genuine, as if he had studied them before wearing them. Everyone saw the confidence and kindness in Tom but she saw control, she saw the look in his eyes, that odd feelings of emptiness. And perhaps what she hated the most is that she could never prove it. He never slipped that strategically made mask, he never made mistakes, he kept his grades in control, his emotions and attitude in control, and his company in control. But she saw the crack in his perfect mask, the true Tom Riddle.

In 5th year, a Ravenclaw boy named Douglas Carraway saw Tom steal pages of multiple books in the restricted sections and publicly accused him, it was a shock to anyone, even the ghost! How could Tom do such a thing? Of course no one believed Carraway, rumors going around saying that Carraway was jealous of Riddle's success and wanted to take him down. Others saying it was Carraway himself who took the pages and decided to blame Riddle instead. But it all stopped when he withdrew the accusation two days later. Then strangely he transferred schools a week later. Everyone forgot, professors forgot, even the ghost forgot. But Y/N didn't, because one night when everyone else was in the Great Hall she decided she needed fresh air, wandering down the halls admiring the portraits she suddenly stopped, she heard the sound of murmuring- what could that be? and she slowly walked down the hall towards the sound she stopped. It was Douglas Carraway and Tom Riddle in the shadows of the corridor, hidden by the noises of the Great Hall, by the sound of the night. As her eyes looked at Carraways' face, she froze. She saw the look of terror, the look of fear in his eyes, no not embarrassment or anger. She saw fear, the kind of fear that lingered long after danger had passed.

And from that moment on, she began watching him.

And somehow, he began watching her too.

────୨ৎ────

𝓑lurry

The library was nearly empty that evening, only the background of rain tapping against the windows keeping company to the few students in the library. Y/N sat alone at a table trying to study for her advanced potions class which she despised ironically enough, but besides her and the other few students doing last minute studying, Tom Riddle was there across the library. Her eyes kept going to stare a Riddle, trying to read him again like the many other times she tried to. He was always reading, always writing charm essays, always looking for something. She quite often saw him with ink on his hands when he was heavily focused in his studying.

He kept his eyes locked onto the page of the book until he didn't. Without warning, he looked right up at her, like he sensed her gaze upon him. Y/N froze, but she still kept her gaze on him. It felt like time stopped while the two kept eye contact, no one looking away. Until Tom smiled at her, a perfect pleasant smile. The same smile he gave to professors, the same he gave students, the same everyone adored. She felt her stomach twist like it always does at the sight of him. That odd feeling never going away, a mix of curiosity and hatred- is what she believed it to be. As she kept looking at him and his smile she realized something, his smile never reached his eyes, not even once. Then suddenly it was gone and replaced by a polite nod as he returned back to his book. Thats when Y/N returned her gaze back to her forgotten book. Not focusing on a single word at all, she couldn't. Because she knew, she knew that he had caught her watching him. And somehow, she had that same gut feeling he had been waiting for it.

Across the library, hidden behind the pages of ancient text. Tom Riddle allowed himself the small flicker of satisfaction. It was interesting to Tom, most people avoided his gaze or looked away first . But Y/N Bellator didn't not one bit.

Suspicious.

Defiant.

Uncomfortable.

She was becoming a problem to Tom, a small one, but still something in the way and he hated that. His fingers tapped against the pages of the book, a habit he rarely took part in. He thought about many stuff, but thing he focused more on was; How much did Y/N Bellator know? Not if she distrusted him or not, he didn't care about that, but he found himself wanting an answer. Not because it was necessary or useful, but because she interested him. And that, he realized with growing irritation was going to be far more dangerous for both of them at the end.

•∘˙⊹. ꒰ঌ ᧔ෆ᧓ ໒꒱ .⊹˙∘•

𝓛ove

The rain battered against the windows of the Astronomy Tower. Y/N Bellator should've left an hour ago, but instead she stood near the railing and stared at the stars out across the dark night. She felt his presence before he spoke, his voice being smooth as silk.

"You've been following me" Tom said.

"And you've been following me" Y/N replied but still didn't turn around.

It felt as if the air around them got colder, more intense, as if it felt the tension between the two before they even knew.

"Fair enough" Tom spoke quietly over the silence.

She finally faced him, there stood Tom a few feet away in the moonlight with his charming face and hands behind his back quietly. Anyone passing by would think the Head Boy and Girl of Slytherin were just taking a break of their patrols. But that was the problem, the harmlessness of it all, how Tom always looked harmless, it distracted anybody from the real truth of him and the doubt.

"Why are you here?" Y/N asked.

"I could ask you the same question" Tom replied coldly.

"I was here first" She said in an instant.

His eyes flickered with an emotion that was unreadable.

"Then perhaps I'm the one following you" Tom said nonchalantly.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, trying to unravel why he said that.

"You are strange" She said a bit unsure.

"And yet," Tom said quietly, "you keep seeking me out".

The words struck her harder than she wanted them to, maybe because there was some truth to them. For months she had watched him, studied him, waiting for him to slip. She hated him, she was almost certain she hated him. So why did she constantly find herself looking for him? Why did she always know where he was? Those thoughts ran short when Tom finally spoke up.

"There it is" He said slowly, noticing her hesitation.

"There what is?" She questioned.

"Doubt" He replied coldly.

His eyes than changed from that unreadable emotion.

"You know, most people decide what they think of me rather quickly Bellator" Tom said.

"Most people either adore me or fear me" Tom continued.

"And which do you prefer?" She questioned.

They both continue to stare at each other, no one moving, and no one breaking the contact. Before he spoke his eyes darkened.

"Neither" He spoke.

For a moment, something raw flashed across his face then gone so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it. That familiar mask everyone knew too well returned.

Perfect.

Controlled.

Untouchable.

She looked at Tom closely, folding her arms to shield her from the cold night air.

"You're lying," She said, "you always lie".

Dangerous.

Electric.

Tom walked closer.

"You think you know me?" He asked.

"I know enough" She replied.

"No" Tom said in an instant.

"You know nothing" Tom continued.

She stepped closer, matching his exact move moments before.

"Then prove me wrong" Y/N said without hesitation.

For the first time, Tom felt surprised, not visibly, not enough for anyone else to notice it. But she saw it, she saw the tiny crack, the tiny fracture in the perfect facade. And suddenly she understood something; Tom Riddle hated being understood..no..he feared it. The realization settled between them, Tom took a step forward..then another. Until barely a foot separated them. Neither of them moving away, neither of them breaking the tension.

"Careful, Bellator" Tom carefully said.

Too carefully.

"Why?" Y/N questioned without fear.

"Because one day your curiosity is going to get you in trouble" He said in that same cold tone.

"With you?" Y/N said with a little bit of laughter at Tom's threat.

Tom's eyes remained fixed on Y/N's.

His voice dropped low.

"Especially with me" Tom said.

The laughter she felt only moments ago died immediately. Because he wasn't joking, they both knew that. For a moment neither of them spoke, not even when a sudden storm started to raged around the tower, with the lightning flashing across the sky. Y/N felt something she hadn't expected. Not fear, not exactly, it was more of recognition; as if some dark part of her understood him better than she did. Tom seemed to sense it too, with his expression becoming that same unreadable emotion.

"Do you know what I find interesting about you?" Tom asked.

Y/N hesitated to answer his question but not out of fear, but out of curiosity,

"Go on" She quietly said.

"Everyone else believes what they're told," Tom's gaze never leaving hers," you don't". He said.

"And?" She questioned a bit unsurely, wondering whats to come next.

"And that makes you dangerous". He finished.

The words should have felt like a warning but they didn't, instead they felt strangely like a compliment. Tom's eyes never stopped looking at her, still examining her, reading her. A slow smile appeared, not the charming smile he showed professors and everyone. This one was colder, more honest, and somehow far more terrifying.

"There you are" Tom murmured.

"What?".

"The real you" Tom replied.

Y/N hated the way her heart skipped, hated the way he looked at her though he were peeling back layers no one else could see. She hated him, she truly did, and yet for the first time she wasn't entirely certain she wanted him to stop looking.

And that frightened her far more than Tom Riddle ever could.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Tom Riddle disliked unpredictability, he disliked it even more when it came in the form of a Slytherin girl with lingering eyes and an even sharper tongue. Three days had passed since their conversation in the Astronomy Tower. And he had thought about her entirely too much and it irritated him. Tom sat alone in the library, quill moving effortlessly across a piece of parchment, yet his concentration was fractured, not because of the essay but because of her. Because Y/N Bellator had looked at him without fear.

Not admiration.

Not envy.

Not desire.

Just understanding.

As if she could somehow see beneath the mask, it was impossible, and yet..His grip tightened around his quill, almost snapping it in-half until a shadow suddenly appears across the table. Tom looked up, and there she was; Y/N Bellator.

"Move" She demanded.

Tom blinked at the sudden demand.

"Excuse me?".

"You're sitting in my seat" She replied like it was normal.

"Your seat?" He questioned while his eyebrow rose.

"Yes" She said with no hesitation.

Tom stared at her while Y/N stared right back, clearly not intimidated. The silence passing by them slowly until Tom laughed. Actually laughed; a genuine sound.

Small.

Brief.

Dangerous.

Y/N immediately regretted speaking, not because she was intimidated no never that, it was because she had never heard Tom laugh before.

It changed his entire face.

Made him seem younger.

Human.

Somebody to relate to, and somehow that was more unsettling than anything else.

"There are dozens of empty tables" Tom observed.

She looked around.

"There seems to be" She said sarcastically.

"Then sit somewhere else" He said.

"No" She said in an instant.

For a moment, Tom simply stared. Then to her complete surprised he gathered his books and stood.

"There" He said in a nonchalant tone.

Y/N frowned.

"That's it?" She asked, clearly anticipating more.

"What were you expecting?"

"A fight." She answered honestly.

Tom leaned down slightly only close enough for only her to hear.

"I don't waste my energy on battles I've already won." He said coldly.

Then he just walked away like nothing happened, like he said nothing. Leaving her frozen beside the table with her cheeks burning.

Arrogant bastard.

Later that evening, Y/N discovered a note tucked inside one of her textbooks, she closely examined the note, noticing there was no signature. and no explanation. Just a single sentence written in elegant handwriting.

"You should be more careful. Not everyone is as patient as I am."

Her stomach dropped, because she recognized the handwriting immediately.

Tom.

Who did he think he was?

A warning?

A threat?

An invitation?

Y/N hated that she couldn't tell.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

Across the castle, Tom sat in the Slytherin common room, with a book rested open in his lap only to be unread and across the room there was Abraxas Malfoy who frowned from across the room.

"You seem distracted." Malfoy stated.

"I'm not." Riddle said in a calm matter.

"You are." Malfoy observed/

Tom only ignored him, which only made Abraxas smirk and ask.

"It's Bellator, isn't it?" He questioned.

Tom's head snapped up, too quick for someone to hate her, the room suddenly felt colder.

"What about her?" Riddle asked.

Abraxas could only laugh.

"Oh, that's definitely a yes."

A dangerous silence followed, with this most people would have backed down but see Abraxas wasn't most people.

"She hates you." He boldly said

Tom could only look away.

"I know."

"And somehow that's the interesting part." Malfoy says.

Tom closes the book in a certain manner.

But slowly.

and deliberately.

His expression became unreadable, and he could only say.

"Careful, Abraxas."

The warning was quiet, far quieter than shouting would have been, and this made Abraxas immediately raise both of his hands.

"Fine." Malfoy simply said, clearing understanding the tension in the common room.

But the damage was already done because Tom hated how accurate the observation was. Y/N hated him and yet for reasons he couldn't fully explain, not to her, not to himself or anyone but he wanted her attention.

That night, Tom found himself wandering the corridors which was a rare occurrence. Sleep had become difficult lately, with his thoughts kept circling the same person.

Annoying.

Pathetic.

Weak.

The very things he despised, but as he rounded a corner, he heard voices and suddenly stopped. Y/N stood near a classroom doorway with a seventh-year Gryffindor boy named Gregory Weasley and he leaned against the wall beside her.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Far too close.

Tom felt something unfamiliar twist inside his chest, something completely foreign to him and the sensation was immediate.

Ugly.

Possessive.

His jaw tightened and the realization hit him clear as day. Jealousy. For several seconds he simply stood there, thinking, really thinking. He was stunned, then disgusted. Jealousy was weakness, it was irrational, hell even embarrassing and way beneath him and everything he believed himself to be above. And yet, his eyes remained fixed on the Gryffindor's hand resting against the wall beside her. He observed how close his hand was by her, too close, far too close. Before either of them could notice him he turned away and left. His expression remained calm.

Controlled.

Perfect.

But his thoughts were anything but, because for the first time in his life, Tom Riddle understood something, Y/N Bellator was no longer a curiosity. She had become something worse, something far more dangerous, she had become a vulnerability.

And vulnerabilities had a habit of destroying people.

credits 4 divider:

Nancy Wheeler x Reader

WC: 939

AN: this is my first fanfic on tumblr ever!! ugh my inspo came from Girls - Girl in Red!!, not any warnings but if so let me know!! enjoyyyy <3

.⋆ 𖥔 ݁ ˖₊‧.⭒.‧₊˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ .

Nancy Wheeler had been your best friend since freshman year of high school. Back then, things had been simple: late-night phone calls about homework, studying together at the Wheeler dining room table, and Nancy showing up at your house with a stack of magazines and a plan to reorganize your entire room, but somewhere along the way, things got complicated. Nancy Wheeler was dating Steve Harrington and you were trying very hard to be happy for her. you really were.

“You’re coming to Tina’s party, right?”

Nancy asked one afternoon, leaning against your locker. You shrugged like it didn’t matter, like the answer wasn’t already yes the moment she asked.

“Yeah. I guess.” Nancy smiled that bright, warm smile that always made your stomach flip.

“Good. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” You ignored the way your chest tightened.

Tina’s Halloween party was loud, crowded, and smelled like cheap beer and pumpkin candles. Music blasted through the house while people in half-hearted costumes shoved past each other in the hallway. You spotted Nancy almost immediately. She was standing with Steve. Steve had his arm around her shoulders, and Nancy was laughing at something he said.

Your stomach sank.

You forced yourself to smile when they noticed you.

“Hey!” Nancy said, brightening instantly. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said.

Steve gave you a casual nod. “Hey.”

You chatted for a few minutes, but it felt wrong. Like standing in someone else’s life. Nancy kept glancing at you when Steve wasn’t looking. And every time she did, something unreadable flashed across her face. Eventually Steve pulled her away toward the kitchen. You watched them go. Later that night, the music was even louder and the house felt warmer, like the walls were closing in. You were halfway through a drink when raised voices caught your attention.

The bathroom door down the hallway slammed shut. A minute later it opened again. Steve Harrington stepped out. His expression was tight, frustrated. You frowned and moved toward him.

“Steve?”

He looked surprised to see you.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Are you… okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Just… relationship stuff, you know?”

Your heart started racing.

“What happened?”

Steve hesitated.

Then he shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He started walking toward the door.

“Steve—”

“She’ll probably want to talk to you,” he said, not turning around. “Just… be there for her, okay?”

And then he left. You stood there for a second, confusion swirling in your head. Then you went looking for Nancy. You found her sitting on the edge of Tina’s bed upstairs. A half-empty cup sat on the nightstand. Nancy looked up when you walked in. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were glassy.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Your chest squeezed.

“Hey.”

You stepped closer.

“You okay?”

Nancy stared at you for a long moment like she was trying to memorize your face. Then she stood, slightly unsteady and walked over. Before you could react, she wrapped her arms around you. Tightly.

“Whoa okay,” you laughed softly, steadying her. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe,” she mumbled against your shoulder. But she didn’t let go. Instead she held on even tighter.

“Don’t leave.”

Your heart skipped.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Nancy tilted her head up to look at you. Her expression was softer than you’d ever seen it.

“Can you take me home?”

“Of course.”

The Wheeler house was quiet when you helped Nancy inside. Everyone else was asleep. Nancy kicked off her shoes in the hallway and grabbed your hand before you could say goodbye.

“Stay.”

“Nance—”

“Please?”

She looked suddenly nervous.

“You can sleep over like you used to.”

The nostalgia hit you hard.

“…okay.”

Nancy smiled. Her bedroom felt the same as always. The same posters. The same desk covered in notebooks. But the air felt different somehow. Nancy crawled into bed and patted the spot beside her. You hesitated only for a second before lying down. Nancy immediately shifted closer and rested her head on your chest. Your breath caught.

“Comfortable?” you asked quietly.

“Very.”

The room was silent for a moment. Then Nancy spoke..

“I broke up with Steve.”

You froze.

“Oh.”

“I thought I liked him,” she said slowly. “I tried really hard to.”

Her fingers twisted in the fabric of your shirt.

“But it felt like lying.”

Your heart started pounding.

Nancy lifted her head slightly, looking up at you.

“You know why?”

You swallowed.

“…why?”

Nancy studied your face.

“Because I—”

She stopped herself, her eyes were tired and the alcohol was clearly still affecting her. You gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“Hey,” you said softly.

Nancy blinked.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

She frowned slightly.

“When we’re both sober, okay?”

She thought about it.

Then nodded.

“…okay.”

Nancy settled back against your chest. Within minutes, her breathing slowed. You stayed awake a while longer, staring at the ceiling. Trying not to think about what she almost said. Morning sunlight filtered through Nancy’s curtains. Nancy woke first. She blinked sleepily, then realized she was still curled up in your arms.

Your arm was loosely around her waist. Your face was relaxed in sleep. The sunlight touched your cheek through the curtain, making your hair glow softly. Nancy felt her chest ache. God. She was so in love with you. Then the memories of the night before came rushing back.

The breakup.

The almost confession.

Your promise to talk.

Nancy smiled to herself.

You hadn’t rejected her.

You had just… waited. Her fingers traced absent patterns on your sleeve. A few minutes later, you stirred awake. Your eyes slowly opened. Nancy was already looking at you. Really looking. You blinked sleepily.

“…what?”

Nancy smiled softly.

“Nothing.”

You squinted at her suspiciously.

“You’re staring.”

Nancy’s smile grew a little warmer.

“You just look beautiful.”

You felt your face immediately heat up.

“Shut up.”

Nancy laughed quietly.