#rival!lorenzo

[rotthepoet]

Rival!Lorenzo when he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party, as another boy had been yelling at you.

✊️🫠

Oooh i think i just creamed my $8 thrifted pants

Okay so lets just accept Rival as every sense of the word. Starting from the beginning you and Lorenzo Berkshire have just not gotten along! It actually began on the train, when you sat down in a compartment, only to be rudely interrupted by this 6foot man built like a twink telling you to get the hell out of “his spot”. And let me tell you, Enzo is not very threatening looking, but the way he glared down at you sent shivers through your whole body. And not the good kind. From there it blossomed into academic rivalry, maybe unfriendly competition, glaring at each other from across DADA, shoving better marks in each others faces. and gods forbid you play quidditch. Full contact trying to knock you off your broom to your death🙏

And i’m gonna be real with you. Boys are mean to people they like. And oh boy, while it takes a long fucking time, Lorenzo is SMITTEN. Irrevocably so. In fact, he’s so smitten that he gets meaner. I’ve talked before about how Enzo reminds me of an 80’s movie bully. This is where that comes in. He is PHYSICAL and willing to risk a detention to see your cute little face angry at him from the floor.(he wants to hate-fuck you so bad, but he doesn’t really hate you, and now he’s confused).

Countless hexes and pranks and tricks and the worst of it was when he spent 3 weeks writing anonymous love letters to you as a secret admirer, told you to meet him in the library after dark. He got you hella detention, tipping Filch off to your breaking of curfew. You dumped two full glasses of pumpkin juice on his head the next morning. He took it like a champ(he figured it was deserved for playing with your heart, although each compliment he wrote in those notes was from the bottom of his heart.) and for the first time, you two laughed together. (Later that day you found out that your ink had been charmed to turn invisible every time you wrote. You threw a balled up sheet of parchment paper with an invisible “fuck you” written on it at him.)

If anyone didn’t hear the way you speak to each other, they’d assume you were an item. Lorenzo’s friends have taken to calling you his girl/boyfriend/partner. Lorenzo doesnt correct them anymore.

With that little context out of the way, let’s flash forward to present day!

Lorenzo’s a little on edge, unable to relax on the sofa with his buddies. He feels the high in his body, slow and buzzing, but he felt completely sober in his head. His eyes kept drifting towards you. You looked nice tonight, absolutely glowing. Maybe it was the lighting. He didn’t care. He liked to watch you smile. And he liked to watch you laugh. And he liked the clothes you wore. And he liked the way you flipped him off with a grin when you saw him across the room. What he didnt like was seeing you dance with this… this nobody! It made his blood boil. And god when he whisked you away, Enzo almost bolted to his feet. He had to play it off to Draco, who tried to follow his gaze.

The world seems to move around Enzo in 2x speed while he sat still. He laughed when his friends laughed, and he spoke but couldn’t remember what he said.

He only broke out of his stupor whenever he heard your name strung together with some other words in his ear.

Lorenzo’s head whips around fast enough that he almost headbutts Pansy Parkinson in the face.

“What?”

“I said they’re in the bathroom crying. What did you do?”

And Lorenzo doesn’t even remember when he got up from the sofa. He doesn’t remember Draco bitching at him to come back. He doesn’t remember shoving people out of the way. He doesn’t remember opening the bathroom door. He just remembers how sad you looked, trying to dab away your tears in the mirror.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“No, I’m serious. What happened?”

And you’re quiet when he approaches you. He doesn’t remember when he grabbed the paper towel from you. He doesn’t remember when he reached up to hold your cheek so gently in his hand. He just remembers the wide eyes you gave him as his thumb wiped away tears, and he dried your wet face. He just remembers how hard his heart pounded in his chest when you closed your eyes, crying even harder as you pressed your hand over his.

He remembers when you spoke to him.

“It’s really nothing. I just thought this guy actually liked me but… he just…” and he continues to wipe your tears away as they fall again, “Its just embarrassing. Yknow? That I thought he actually liked me and it wasn’t just for sex.”

Lorenzo doesn’t remember pulling you into a hug, but he remembers the way your hair smelled. The way you shook in his arms. The way your breathing slowed as you calmed down.

“Can you answer me honestly, Lorenzo? Why don’t people like me? What is so unlikeable about me?”

And Lorenzo remembers his heart shattering in his chest. He remembers the wide and confused eyes you gave him when he answered. He remembers the cute blush spreading across your face as you processed his words.

“Nothing.”

Anyways!!!! Idk if this is what you had in mind! I was originally going to write a fight but I had a rough day at work and needed some fluff in my life<3 i kinda deviated from your idea but im gonna keep this in mind more. thank you so much for rival lorenzo tho, im kinda obsessed with him.

[aphoticarachne]

What is this feeling?

Tom Riddle x Reader

Chapter IV

chapter iii

wherein the potion brewing begins

a/n: i really like this chapter, i enjoyed writing Tom's perspective in this entire thing.

Tom wanted to tear the wretched thing beating inside his chest clean out, had it not been for the Horcrux shackling it in place.

Sleep was a distant, taunting phantom that refused to grace him. His thoughts churned like a violent sea, each wave dragging him under. After your confrontation in the Prefects’ bathroom, he had returned to Slughorn’s gathering with a mask of indifference, only to be assailed by questions that gnawed at his patience.

"She wasn’t feeling well,” he’d said flatly, the excuse sliding off his tongue before anyone could ask too much.

The responses were insufferable.

“Oh dear, poor thing. I hope she rests.”

“Should someone check on her this evening?”

“Has she visited Madam Pomfrey yet?”

Their nauseating concern coiled around him like a noose, tightening with every pitying remark. It wasn’t their sympathy that irritated him—it was the fact that it was directed toward you.

He had excused himself from the gathering entirely, leaving the warmth of the room for the cold solace of solitude.

The night stretched on interminably. When dawn finally arrived, he stood before the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with disdain. He combed his hair with brutal precision, fastening his robes until they sat perfectly on his frame, as though an impeccable appearance might restore order to his chaotic mind.

Unable to linger within the walls of the castle, he ventured outside, the crisp morning air biting at his skin. His feet carried him to the Whomping Willow, its gnarled branches clawing at the sky like cursed hands.

He halted.

There you stood, your figure framed by the skeletal silhouette of the tree. The wind toyed with your hair, and for a moment, it seemed as though the storm had birthed you—a force untamed, defiant in the face of all it touched.

Tom’s lips pressed into a thin line as his hands slid into his pockets, his posture stiffening. Even in the stillness of morning, you were an intrusion, a disruption he couldn’t ignore. You were chaos incarnate, and for reasons he loathed to admit, you had taken root in the darkest corners of his mind.

As much as he detested you—loathed you—he stayed rooted in his spot, his dark eyes fixed on your every movement. He told himself he was merely studying you, calculating your next irritating display, yet his gaze lingered far longer than it should have.

Your infuriatingly elegant hair swayed with the morning wind, each strand catching the golden light as though it was designed to mock him. You stood there, still as a statue, gazing up at the Whomping Willow as though it were some grand monument.

Tom frowned, his jaw tightening. There was a peculiar tightness in his chest, a gnawing sensation that slithered through him like poison. Whenever he saw you, something foreign stirred within him—something unnamed. And that was what unsettled him the most.

Surely, it had to be hatred. Yes, pure, unfiltered hatred. What else could explain the way his stomach twisted at the sound of your name? Or the way his hands clenched into fists whenever he saw others vying for your attention? Hatred was logical. Hatred was safe.

But the sight of Archibald Fawley striding toward you disrupted his careful rationalization.

The boy was already grinning, that irritatingly cocky smirk plastered on his face as though he owned the very ground he walked on. His light brown hair tousled in the wind, his uniform pressed to perfection. He stopped in front of you, speaking in that jovial, self-satisfied tone that Tom despised.

From his vantage point, Tom’s lips curled into a sneer. Fawley—a boy so arrogant, so transparently hollow—had the audacity to stand so close to you, to make you laugh, to bask in the light of your attention.

His throat tightened. His wand hand twitched in his pocket, the desire to cast something sharp and cruel simmering beneath his calm exterior. A simple hex—nothing too conspicuous. Just enough to knock Fawley down a few pegs, to remind him of his place.

And yet, before Tom could utter a single syllable, you turned away. Without so much as a backward glance, you left Fawley standing there alone, your figure retreating toward the castle with an elegance that made his blood boil.

Tom exhaled sharply, forcing his grip on his wand to loosen.

It wasn’t possessiveness, he assured himself. No, this was something else entirely. He hated you, hated how you drew people to you with such ease, hated how you existed in spaces that should have belonged to him alone. That was all it was.

And yet, even as the wind carried Fawley’s laughter to his ears, Tom couldn’t shake the lingering thought that the boy’s proximity to you felt like an offense—an encroachment on something that was his.

Tom followed you without thought, as though tethered to your steps by some unseen force. It was a habit he hated acknowledging, an instinct he resented. Yet here he was, his movements silent and calculated, like a shadow that only he noticed. He was terrifyingly good at it, though he’d never admit it.

He trailed you at a careful distance, his sharp eyes fixed on the path ahead. A flick of his wand sent a quiet jinx toward Fawley, who had yet to leave the courtyard. Tom smirked to himself as the boy stumbled on the stairs, his usual cocky composure cracking as he fumbled to regain balance.

Satisfied, Tom stepped into the castle.

Ahead, he watched your figure retreat down the corridor. The sharp click of your heels echoed in the quiet halls, a sound that set his teeth on edge. Those ridiculous boots. He recalled, unbidden, how you’d written to your parents after your school-issued shoes had given out, demanding something better—something elegant and entirely impractical. It had annoyed him then, how indulgent your family was, how you seemed to get whatever you wanted. Yet now, the sound of those heels was unmistakably you, and he hated that he could recognize it.

That detail stuck in his mind. Why, he couldn’t say.

His jaw tightened as you passed into the glow of the early morning sunlight streaming through the high castle windows. The way the light played against your hair, catching in soft waves, made his chest constrict—just for a moment. It wasn’t admiration, he told himself. It couldn’t be. It was irritation, pure and simple.

You rounded the corner toward the Great Hall, your robes flowing behind you like black silk. Tom slowed his pace, his lips pressing into a thin line. There was something infuriating about the way you moved, like you were untouchable, perfectly composed, and entirely oblivious to the chaos you caused in others.

Your steps purposeful, likely in search of an early breakfast.

Tom lingered in the hallway for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. There was something maddening about the way you carried yourself, a grace that felt infuriatingly deliberate, as though you knew precisely how to provoke him without ever saying a word.

And still, despite every ounce of loathing he could muster, he followed. Always.

Tom told himself he would leave, that he would stop this absurdity.

And yet, as always, he stayed. Hidden in plain sight, observing, watching, waiting—for what, even he couldn’t say.

Ever since your prolonged conversation with Archibald Fawley at the Slug Club dinner, He had taken it personally. Unreasonably. Almost manically.

The morning after, he had somehow found you near the Whomping Willow. He had somehow decided that it was his duty to escort you to your classes. He had somehow taken the liberty of sitting beside you and Zelda at lunch, his presence an unspoken imposition.

It was possessive in a way that wasn’t possessive—because Archibald Fawley didn’t form attachments, didn’t care about anyone but himself. Not really. That much, you knew.

But whatever this was—the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his patience frayed when others dared to take up your attention—it wasn’t nothing, either.

The hours blurred together, and before long, the clock struck four. Time to brew the potion.

You hadn’t forgotten last night. Of course you hadn’t.

The way his fingers had curled around your throat—long and cold and far too comfortable in their cruelty—had lingered in your mind all day. Made your stomach knot. Made your hands clench into fists.

He didn’t get to do that.

Your pace was measured, steady, as you made your way toward the Potions classroom, knowing full well that Tom abhorred lateness. You turned the last corridor, spotting the door ahead—only to halt in your tracks.

Because there, standing directly in your path, was Archie.

Wonderful.

"Hey!"

He greeted you with an easy grin, calling you by a nickname that made something unpleasant coil in your chest. That was reserved for friends. For people who actually mattered.

"Archie," you said, smoothing the irritation from your tone, "what are you doing here?"

"Just walking about." He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Thought you had somewhere to be." The cheer in his voice faltered ever so slightly. He remembered your excuse from earlier—that you had a project.

"I do. Potions," you replied, gaze sweeping over him.

"Oh, well—"

Whatever he was about to say was abruptly cut off by the slow, deliberate creak of the classroom door.

A sharp gust of air brushed against the back of your legs. A shadow stretched across the floor, swallowing yours whole.

"Fawley."

Tom’s voice was smooth, but entirely devoid of warmth. He didn’t acknowledge you. Didn’t even look at you. His eyes were locked onto Archie, glacial and calculating, stripping him down to nothing.

"She and I have a project to complete," Tom said, his tone clipped, final. "If you don’t mind."

Before you could so much as react, he reached for your wrist and pulled you inside, the door slamming shut behind you with a resounding thud.

You staggered slightly but quickly regained your balance, whipping around to glare at him.

"Why do you insist on surrounding yourself with people like him?" he asked, voice quiet, as if speaking more to himself than to you. He exhaled sharply and strode toward the cauldron, sleeves still neatly rolled up from earlier.

"You don’t get to dictate who I associate with," you snapped, arms folding as your gaze followed him.

"You’re late."

He still didn’t look at you, already focused on arranging the ingredients before him. "I said four o’clock sharp. Or is punctuality just as difficult for you as basic comprehension?"

You smirked. "Funny. I don’t recall being the one bested on last year’s report cards."

He stilled. His jaw ticked.

You could feel the irritation rolling off him as he double-checked the ingredients—until, finally, his expression shifted.

"You forgot the Valerian root."

Your voice cut through the thick, silent tension like a scalpel. You watched as the realization dawned on him, as his fingers curled ever so slightly around the table’s edge.

"It appears I have," he admitted after a moment, his voice quiet. Then, without so much as a glance in your direction—

"Well, be a good girl and fetch it for me, won’t you?"

A command. An expectation. A statement so dismissive it may as well have been patronizing.

He shrugged off his robe, draping it over the chair, before rolling up his sleeves further, unbothered. Unconcerned.

"I’m not your pet, Riddle."

"I never said you were. We are partners, aren’t we?"

You exhaled sharply, spinning on your heel toward the supply cabinet, muttering under your breath—

"Smug bastard."

You despised it—the condescension in his voice, the way he always seemed one step ahead, as if he knew your thoughts before you did.

Still, you held your tongue, retrieving the jar of Valerian Root and placing it precisely among the other ingredients.

With a sigh, you shrugged off your robe, draping it haphazardly over a chair. You had barely turned when Tom’s voice rang out behind you.

"Remove your jewelry." A warning, not a suggestion.

You exhaled sharply, already reaching for your rings. "How considerate of you," you drawled, casting him a sideways glance.

His expression didn’t shift, but something cold flickered in his gaze. "I’d rather not die in an explosion because of your incompetence."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could muster a biting retort, his voice pierced through the silence.

“Turn around.”

Tom’s words were sharp, and he stood before you, looming with that same unrelenting gaze that had unsettled you since your first year.

A frown creased your brow in confusion.

Reluctantly, you complied, pivoting to face away from him. His hands, cold as ice, swept your hair aside with surprising delicacy before grazing your skin. A sharp tremor cascaded through you, the touch sending an electric shiver down your spine.

He deftly unclasped your golden locket, the fine chain slipping from his fingers before he extended it to you with a quiet command.

You met his unwavering gaze as you accepted the necklace, heart inexplicably pounding.

It was… unexpectedly intimate.

As you both set to work, Tom immediately took it upon himself to direct the proceedings. “Powdered Asphodel Root,” he demanded, his hand extended toward you, waiting for the jar.

“I’m not your servant,” you shot back, your voice laced with contempt at his presumptuous tone.

“You’re not my servant. We’re partners,” Tom clarified, his teeth clenched in frustration, clearly irritated by your refusal to follow his instructions.

“You seem to conflate partners with subordinates,” you quipped, your voice dripping with derision. “Though, I suppose it makes sense—everyone around you seems conditioned to worship at your feet.”

Tom’s retort was cut short as you interrupted him. “The cauldron’s boiling.”

Tom muttered something under his breath, his annoyance palpable as he snatched the jar of Powdered Asphodel Root and added it to the cauldron.

You, having already committed the potion's brewing process to memory, moved with precision. Grasping the wooden spoon, you began to stir the contents, watching as the Asphodel Root dissolved seamlessly into the liquid, transforming it into a rich, dark purple hue.

"Where is the Stewed Mandrake Root?" you inquired, your hands moving skillfully as you stirred the potion with unwavering precision.

Tom, standing just beside you, glanced at the cauldron before his hand reached over to yours, grabbing the ingredient and dropping it carefully into the mixture.

You immediately noticed the potion's texture shift, growing more opaque and thicker, demanding you to stir with greater force to maintain the flow.

An overpowering, earthy stench filled the air, almost suffocating. You recoiled, gagging slightly as the smell hit your nostrils. "Merlin..." You grimaced, shaking your head to rid yourself of the foulness, before steeling yourself and continuing to stir the potion, determined to finish what had been started.

Your gaze swept over the cluttered workstation, irritation sparking as you noticed a conspicuous absence among the ingredients.

"Where is the Fluxweed?" you inquired, voice edged with impatience.

Tom's piercing stare landed on you, cold and unyielding. "Did you not retrieve it from the pantry?"

"You only instructed me to fetch the Valerian Root," you countered.

With a measured sigh, Tom strode toward the supply room, his movements deliberate. He scanned the shelves, fingers trailing over the labeled jars before turning back to you with a displeased expression.

"It hasn't been harvested yet," he stated flatly.

Annoyance flared within you. "And you didn’t think to confirm that before we started brewing?"

Unruffled, he replied, "We can preserve what we’ve already concocted. The deadline isn’t until next week."

Exhaling sharply, you conceded with a curt nod.

"When is the next full moon?"

"Tonight," you answered without hesitation, your tone matter-of-fact.

Tom regarded you with suspicion. "And how exactly do you know that?"

You tilted your head, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I take Divination."

He scoffed, shaking his head slightly. "Naturally."

Suppressing a surge of irritation, you slammed the wooden spoon onto the table with an audible thud and extinguished the flame beneath the cauldron.

"We’ll gather the Fluxweed after dinner. Professor Diggory’s garden should suffice," he declared, stepping past you to scrutinize the potion with unnerving intensity.

Your arms folded across your chest as you fixed him with a skeptical stare.

"And what exactly makes you think we’re allowed to just stroll into a professor’s private garden?"

Merlin, why did harvesting Fluxweed have to be such an ordeal? The timing had to be precise—plucked under the full moon or else it would wither into something entirely unusable, even toxic.

"You ask for permission, obviously," Tom replied smoothly, as if the solution were self-evident.

"Why me?" You arched a brow.

"Professor Diggory has a penchant for favoring his female students over his male ones." His voice was laced with dry amusement. "I’m certain he finds your . . . personality quite endearing and won’t hesitate to indulge your request."

A shudder ran down your spine at the implication. Professor Diggory had a well-known tendency to be overly accommodating toward his female students, his favoritism skirting the edge of discomfort. The mere thought made your skin crawl.

"Have you no shame?" You stood rigid, voice low, eyes fixed on Tom. He had orchestrated this so easily, as if it were nothing—as if you were nothing. Another pawn to be moved at his leisure, another piece in his carefully constructed game.

Tom tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if he were amused by the question. "I wonder that myself sometimes."

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes, and reached for your cloak, your rings clinking as you pulled them onto your fingers. Tom raised his wand, murmured something under his breath, and just like that, the remnants of your work—scattered jars, a half-emptied vial of asphodel, the stained spoon—vanished into neat, sterile order.

"I'm leaving," you said. The words came out clipped, precise. You didn’t wait for his permission.

Tom's eyes followed you, calculating, lingering. "Running back to Fawley, then?"

Your fingers hesitated on the clasp of your cloak.

"What is your problem with Archie and I?"

"I don't have one."

"Could’ve fooled me."

His expression darkened, the usual effortless mockery replaced with something colder, something that sat between disdain and something else—something unreadable. He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. "Are you truly so blind? You, of all people, should know what Fawley is like—how he treats people, especially women like you."

A strange, creeping unease curled in your stomach.

"What are you implying?"

He regarded you for a long moment, as if considering something. Then, a blink, and the mask was back in place—cool, impassive. "Nothing."

Something in his voice sent a chill down your spine. Did he know something you didn’t? As Head Boy, Tom had the unfortunate privilege of knowing every scrap of gossip that circulated in the Slytherin common room.

You scoffed, pushing past him toward the door. Your fingers curled around the handle, but for some reason, you hesitated. The candlelight flickered, shadows stretching across the stone floor. You could feel him still watching you, his presence pressing against your spine like an invisible weight.

"After dinner," Tom reminded, his voice smooth, deliberate. "Don't be late."

You turned slightly, just enough to glimpse the sharp profile of his face, the way the low light caught in the waves of his slicked-back hair. There was something unnerving about him—something you couldn’t name.

And for some reason, as you stepped into the corridor, the chill in the air felt a little sharper than before.

Deena speaks .ᐟ

Oh my god I am so sorry this took so long to publish a lot has happened in my life.

Firstly, we had our annual prom last week Friday and my crush gave me a bouquet of roses and danced with me thrice.

He and I are talking as of now.

Also happy valentines day to all those who celebrate ! Love you all & thank you for the support you've been giving me, mwa!

[kryptonbabe]

From Void Rivals #15 (2025)

The reunion of Springer and Hot Rod was sweet, Rod was in such a good mood – the best Void Rivals issues are the ones with the Autobots. Springer and Rod bring a nice warm feeling to the story, they're so charismatic – also, the plot tends to move forward when they're around which is cool

[infin1ty-garden]

BAND TOGETHER

✧. ┊ summary: your rival is in a band ✧. ┊ character(s): blaise zabini, draco malfoy, lorenzo berkshire, mattheo riddle, pansy parkinson and theodore nott ✧. ┊ warnings: mention of alcohol consumption ✧. ┊ word count: 847 ✧. ┊ author note: it's a day late. verry sorry

masterlist. & 100 follower celebration

BLAISE ZABINI

✧. ┊ Blaise was a guitarist in the band. Your relationship wasn't exactly a good one but you respected each other. You were surprised one of your friends was a fan of said band.

✧. ┊ All in all their music was pretty good and you ended up listening to their songs. That's what you were doing in the library, when Blaise interrupted you.

✧. ┊ "You like my voice that much," he just had to interrupt you as one of his rare solo parts came on. For weeks he didn't let you live it down. He visited you after class and shoved a ticket in your hand. Didn't say anything else.

✧. ┊ He couldn't keep his thoughts straight. You are listening to his voice. Well, songs but same thing. The scene kept replaying in his head. Do you like him? Does he like you?

DRACO MALFOY

✧. ┊ You were in rival bands. Known to dislike each other. Most of your songs containing lines to make fun of the other band. What you didn't expect was finding Draco in your dressing room.

✧. ┊ "What are you doing here?" He didn't say anything as he made his way to you. Stopping right in front of you. His expression is unreadable. "I wanted to ask you out on a date."

✧. ┊ Your head was spinning. Your rival is asking you out for a date. What has the world come to?

✧. ┊ Draco didn't really hate you. How could he? You were talented, great, caring and just awesome. He had to ask you out if he'd end up waiting for too long. He didn't want to regret not asking you out sooner.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

✧. ┊ Lorenzo was trying to impress some girls with his guitar skills. You rolled your eyes as they swarmed around him. A sensible person would run in the other direction. "I could do better."

✧. ┊ "Try," he heard you, passing you the guitar. Everyone was looking at you but then the gryffindors crashed the party. Saving your ass.

✧. ┊ "I still wanna hear you play," Lorenzo insisted. A few days after the incident, Lorenzo asked you to play him something. You prepared in advance and asked one of your friends to teach you something simple.

✧. ┊ he was mesmerised, watching you play. He isn't sure why he feels like that. He hates you, doesn't he?

MATTHEO RIDDLE

✧. ┊ You had gotten drunk at another slytherin party. Barged into a random unoccupied room. To find a drum set and decided to fool around.

✧. ┊ Mattheo stumbled in with a girl in his arms. Confused once he spotted you on his drum set. Ignoring the girl he'd been making out with a moment ago.

✧. ┊ "What are you doing?" You stopped. Looked around finally realising this was Mattheo's room. "Sorry, I d-didn't..." you left the room. Letting them continue what they were doing.

✧. ┊ Mattheo was so confused. Why were you in his room? Why didn't it bother him? He cornered you. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't think it was your room and I was drunk."

✧. ┊ "Would you like to learn how to play?"

PANSY PARKINSON

✧. ┊ Pansy was a great singer. You randomly found out she was apart of a band. You can't deny her singing capabilities. You can't stand her but she is talented.

✧. ┊ You decided to go to one of their shows. It was a small venue. You still hoped she wouldn't see you. Just your luck as soon as she got on the stage, she spotted you.

✧. ┊ She kept looking at you while singing certain parts of songs. You thought she hated you. Clearly you thought wrong.

✧. ┊ After the show she came up to you. "What did you think?" She'd placed her hands on yours. "I...um loved it?" You were uncertain what she wanted to hear your opinion on. "Yeah?"

✧. ┊ Pansy didn't realise her feelings for you until one of her friends pointed them out. What she thought was hate was actually love? She couldn't deny it anymore.

THEODORE NOTT

✧. ┊ "What's this bullshit," you found Theo in the courtyard writing. You assumed it was an essay or something but it was lyrics. You grabbed his notebook and started running. "Is it about a girl you're madly in love with?" He chased you as you read the lyrics. Slowly coming to the realisation that they were about you.

✧. ┊ "You can't come up with a better title than I hate you, die," he took back his notebook and ignored you for the rest of the week. "Hurt, I read your little diary?" He threw a paper at you. You read the top 'I hate you, die'. The lyrics had been reworked to include a certain event. Despite this the song was a love song. He loved you?

✧. ┊ Love and hate can be mistaken for one or the other and Theo knew he loved you. He just didn't know how to say it. Words left him when he was around you. He felt like a fool. It was a dumb idea but he did it anyway. Writing a song for you.

Thanks for reading!

[evilhorse]

Void Rivals #15

[kgetb]

can you see right through me...? ||>> Lorenzo Berkshire

song to listen :

The Archer (Taylor Swift)

summary :

No one seemed to notice how off Y/n has been these past few weeks, no one but Lorenzo Berkshire. He somehow noticed every little detail when it came to the girl who absolutely despised his whole existence

brief mentions of ed, fluff, comfort, mentions of sh, academic rivalry

›(for my academically burnout girlies! I think I got too carried away...)‹

lover masterlist !♡

⤷ : : YANNA'S MAP .. : :

Y/n Y/l/n, deemed as one of the Model students of Hogwarts. The school of Wizardry, and Witchcraft. She was much above, and advanced compared to the average Student of Hogwarts.

Yet no matter how above, or advanced she was seen as, she will never be as best as Lorenzo Berkshire. generally, and academically everything. He was always managed to be one step ahead, or maybe even beside her

Even of how much effort she put, trying and trying.. it never seemed to be enough to outweigh the bitterness she continues to feel at the mere thought of that boy from Slytherin. Who doesn't even realize how much his presence, and performance affected the girl mentally, and physically

---

Y/n sat silently in the corner of the library, alone. As everyone was already in the Great Hall, eating their meals filled with delight, and talking with one another almost having no worries about failing academically, or even failing anything. How Y/n dreaded just to feel what a normal teenager should.

Instead of being out for lunch, like everybody else, she buried her face deep into the book she read. Flipping through each pages, skimming through all of them carefully, her eyes wide as her attention was only focused on the book. While she also ignored the growl of her stomach yearning for her to eat, The obvious shaking of her hands, and the dizzying exhaustion her whole body felt, except her.. how could she even have the appetite to even eat, sleep, or even rest knowing she doesn't deserve it?

No matter how starved she got,

No matter how much sleep she loss,

along with her blood, and tears, she knew none of it was worth it enough to bring her head out of the books, and to show herself Infront of everyone. What would all of them think to see a once so beautiful soul, then gradually ravaged inside, and out all because of greediness, pride, and envy?

As for a few minutes of Y/n lost in the wonders hundred pages the book included, she was quickly snapped out of her thoughts as she heard familiar shoes, walking in the quiet library, along with a few voices, she recognized one of the voices vividly. it was no other than that Slytherin she 'despised' the most, Lorenzo Berkshire

She immediately closed the book she held shut, and picked up all of the other books that was scattered Infront of her, then, she picked up her test papers and her potions notes scattered everywhere, some even slightly wrinkled due to her tight, and rough grasp on it

Y/n then slung her messenger bag over her shoulder, which included the rest of her supplies, Then she somehow managed to stand up with a swift manner. Brutal waves then came crashing over her body after she did so. Her legs then began wobbling as she tried her best to stand up, as her vision went black for a few seconds after she stood up Her breath quickened, after she felt her chest tighten, her carelessness suffocating her roughly.

She tried to brush off the overwhelming sensations she felt over her body, and tried her best to make her way out of the Library. Taking peeks of each corner, expecting to see Enzo. She shook away her thoughts, as she placed a hand on her temple while she looked down on the cold floor that caused the loud pitter patter of her shoes, a sign of her presence.

Lorenzo, along with his friends all lingered around with each corner of the Library, his presence haunting Y/n with each step she took..

Just as she was about to exit the Library, to study else where. Somewhere far away from everyone. Her whole body collided with another person, she looked up, her e/c eyes widening at the sight of no other than Lorenzo Berkshire who looked at her, with nothing but concern, and confusion at the sight.. he immediately noticed her eye bags, and how she got even paler the last time he saw her.. along with her demeanor, it was off to say that least.

"Y/l/n? you alright?" Lorenzo immediately said, as he first glanced over at the girl who just stared deeply into his eyes, their gaze lingering on each other's features..

Y/n then quick snapped out of her thoughts, and widened her eyes as she realized what she was doing. She took a few seconds to process what Enzo said and nodded quickly, her breath fastening as the time slip through their fingers.

"I'm doing fine, Berkshire." She replied with an obvious bitter tone, Lorenzo raised his eyebrow at the obvious lie of the girl who was obviously not fine

Enzo leaned closer to match Y/n's gaze

“Really, Y/l/n ? I don't think you skipping meals, and losing sleep is 'doing fine.' don't even get me started with...” He nodded his head over to Y/n's wrists, which she quickly covered by hiding them through her books, and other belongings..

She cleared her throat, and now avoided looking at Enzo. “Those are nothing, I just had.... Errands.” She muttered with a softened tone, yet loud enough for Enzo to hear. but of course, it was an obvious lie. Enzo could tell just by her tone, and expression...

“Merlin, what do they make you do so you could achieve such deep cuts?” Enzo scoffed, clearly not buying whatever lie Y/n could thought of. He wasn't dumb, of course he wasn't. That's what Y/n hated about him, he was just so... perfect... Ughhh!!! what was she thinking?!?!!

“i-it's none of your business! Leave me alone, Berkshire!” She snapped, and tried to move pass Enzo who's blocked her way with one eyebrow raised, and with his arms crossed.

He shook his head, he may seem very annoying right now. But he was just concerned for a fellow.. 'classmate' afterall. “Y/l/n, tell me what's wrong, what's gotten into you?” Enzo furrowed his eyebrows as he asked her, his lips pursing afterwards.

what's gotten into you?!

what's GOTTEN into you?

what's gotten into YOU?

y/n?

those exact words rang into Y/n's ears, seriously. what's gotten into her? why was she so caught into being better than... him? ..why?

"There's nothing wrong with me, Berkshire. There's nothing up with me!” The girl responded defensively, as she tried to maintain a low voice..

She shook her head continuously, as she tried to steady her breathing. Why was she being like this? Y/n gripped on her books tightly, as she desperately tried to move past Enzo yet it was no use..

Enzo let out a sigh softly, stepping a little closer to Y/n, yet still respecting her personal space. Even though he just wanted to held the girl in his Arms, and tell her everything's going to be fine, and she wasn't at fault for her behavior..

He opened his arms, welcoming Y/n into an embrace as he saw how distressed, and.. paranoid she looked. The girl noticed, and let her shoulders that were once so tensed relax. She placed down the books she held that were once covering her wrists by an empty shelf, and accepted Enzo's invitation for an embrace..

It was embarrassing. Y/n felt embarrassed. As she quietly sobbed in the chest of he, who she hated the most. he, who was the main reason why she was like this. She felt guilty, and ashamed of herself. “..'m sorry.” She apologized out of the blue, her voice was muffled with her quiet sobs, along with how tight Enzo held her..

“for what?” He asked with a much more softer tone, after he's realized Y/n was mentally breaking down... He began to caress the back of Y/n's head with his thumb, muttering soft 'shh's' to somewhat calm her down

“for being... selfish.” she responded and hid her face deeper into Lorenzo's chest, yet Enzo couldn't understand on what she meant by.. 'being selfish'.

“...I don't understand, Y/l/n.” Enzo noticed his friends and silently plead them to go without him just by his gaze..

“Y/n. Call me Y/n.” She mumbled, as she tried to calm her heavy breathing.. “a—and.. the only reason why I'm like this is.. b—because I couldn't handle the fact that you were just so much.. better than me.. -she let out a sigh in embarrassment- I just don't understand how you're great academically, in quidditch and even as a person. I don't know why I'm acting like this, 'm sorry. Berkshire,”

Y/n stiffled with a frown, just now realizing how careless she's became with her health..

Enzo was taken aback by Y/n's words, mouth slightly agape as his cheeks warmed up. She thought he was... better than her..? Y/n Y/l/n thought that he was... great..?

“Y/n.. you're genuinely one of the best people I've met. believe it or not, but really.. don't ever think so low of yourself again, because you're much... much... better than me” Enzo smiled softly, meaning each word he's said.

“and really.. I don't mean the words I've said to you before, just noticed how pissing you off was the only way to be noticed by you.” Enzo admitted with a sheepish smile, embracing the girl tightly letting her somewhat rest.

Y/n hadn't realized how long it's been since she felt relaxed, without having to think of her academics.. she smiled lightly to herself. “you're really an idiot, berkshire.” she joked, as she finally let her eyelids close shut..

“call me enzo from now on..” he whispered, and intertwined his fingers with hers. adoring the sight of Y/n finally getting her well deserved rest, with him as the reason..

mentions: @helendeath

[jkparkin]

Void Rivals #21 (Image Comics, July 2025) cover by Lorenzo De Felici

[khakilike]

Void Rivals #11, Robert Kirkman and Lorenzo De Felici

[batsplat]

“og 4 aliens very particular vibe in being ‘three distinct flavours of socially awkward loner and also valentino rossi’” LMAO I WAS JUST THINKING THIS!!!!!! That he has the funniest possible 3 foils in that era bc like…those three guys could not be less his vibe ~personality wise if they tried. And actually tbf I do think they WERE trying a lot of the time. Feeling very curious if you think there’s anything to the idea of how Marc was the first alien-era rival he had who was more on his level all around? Like early days Marc was kind of just 😀😀😀 all the time but I do think he can be v charming and is clearly extroverted as hell (tho like…notably also a loner but like…not by choice??). Like idk where im going w this but the contrast is interesting to me. IDK

to some extent! I'm not sure I'd necessarily call marc an extrovert, you can be charismatic and cheerful without being an extrovert - but also this is splitting hairs. the og four aliens are one guy who's on the 'roughly as extroverted as you can possibly get as a professional athlete' end of the spectrum and three guys who are on the 'roughly as introverted as you can possibly get as a professional athlete' end. now, tbh, I don't think valentino massively minded this. he's extroverted but crucially he's also got enough charm going for him that he could get his rivals to chat with him if he was so inclined. he had an increasingly friendly relationship with dani, there's real genuine warmth in how both of them talk about each other - ultimately dani might have been quite sullen and withdrawn in general, especially in his early years, but he got on well with valentino. casey and valentino had perfectly decent interpersonal chemistry, they got on well, and tbh they were still warm with each in-person long past the point where that relationship had rhetorically soured. with jorge... I mean, okay, no chemistry there, but that was also very much valentino's choice. I do not fundamentally doubt valentino's ability to charm twenty year old jorge lorenzo. I think just because they were DIFFERENT characters, that doesn't necessarily mean they weren't valentino's *type* personality-wise, like he does seem to be happy enough to be the chatty one who draws them out of their shells in that scenario. unless competitive necessity requires otherwise!! but as marc discovered, somewhat higher levels of extroversion does not protect you if that's the case

I will say I know you do put alien-era as a caveat, but it is still important to point out that marc is very much not the first valentino rival who doesn't fall in the introverted loner camp. valentino had a rival who matched his vibe!! who he had a real proper off-track friendship with, who he went on holidays with, who he had a warm relationship with for substantially longer than the marc/valentino honeymoon lasted. I think you can see the early marc era as a bit of a return to the friendlier vibes of the early noughties, but crucially it is a return. the early noughties was the last gasp before the sport came to be completely dominated by a bunch of young prodigies who had been moulded into perfect athletes and had less chance to grow into people outside of the sport - valentino is already part of that camp in everything but temperament, cf the contrast with biaggi. in the early noughties, he was surrounded by a bunch of older riders who varied dramatically in disposition... biaggi was the guy everyone had issues with, capirossi was always fond of valentino, kr jr he got on well with, he played a mentoring role for in hayden's rookie season... and of course, most importantly, the friendship with sete - now there's an obscenely friendly rivalry right until the very moment when it isn't. 2013-14 is a bit of a return to that more congenial climate, but at the end of the day that lot were still less likely to socialise than riders were back in the day. they just didn't have the time lol

so yeah, I mean. valentino clearly did take to marc on a personal level, and marc is definitely closer to valentino on the introversion/extroversion spectrum than the three other aliens are. though that is also... not difficult. there is something quite funny about how 2006-07 went from valentino's pov. the engine regs changed, valentino literally blinked and suddenly all his opps were toddlers. went from goofing off with capirossi on the sepang 2006 podium to running a daycare centre overnight. and marc is part of that! it's also a massive change in that suddenly, valentino was surrounded by rivals who had been influenced by watching him ride as they grew up and were all really, really, really weird about him. marc with his little bike collection, jorge with his dabbling in pseudoscientific schools of psychology, casey and his championship-winning shirt, dani... well, tbf, I do actually think dani was pretty normal about valentino - probably because he'd known him the longest. had gotten drunk with valentino in the days when the bloke was just an idol and not a god. which is an underrated reason why the dani/valentino relationship never got so weird imo, one that goes beyond competitive calculus - dani was the most capable of interacting with valentino as just another guy. with all three of marc/jorge/casey, that idolisation dynamic does contribute significantly to the interpersonal turmoil

but that's a topic for another day! in conclusion, marc defo the dispositionally cheeriest foil of the alien lot, albeit somewhat by default, and WAS part of the reason why motogp got a bit of a mood lift in that 2013-14 period after what had just been a dire few years vibes-wise. mediocre racing, devastation caused by the financial crisis, tragedy... motogp was feeling quite lifeless in 2011-12 in particular, and those years do have a bit of a drab energy to them. in that sense, what followed was a bit of a reversion to the mean until the vibes completely went off the cliff. have they ever recovered? who can say

[onedegreeofsoniccomics]

Void Rivals #1

Creative Team

Writer: Robert Kirkman Pencils/Inks: Lorenzo de Felici Colors: Matheus Lopes Letters: Rus Wooton

Editorial Team

Editor: Bixie Mathieu

[see-through-my-eyes]

Lorenzo Berkshire x Muggle born Gryffindor

Because she's a gryffindor and he's a Slytherin

And she's a Muggle born when he's a pure blood

They have nothing in common. Are they ?

But she loves music and he loves flowers

He loves writing and she loves Comics.

And he's saying he's ambitious but he's as sweet as teddybear

And she's saying she isn't brave enough to be at Gryffindor but her patronus is a Chimera

And he's so tall and handsome as hell

And she's so weird but gorgeous at the same time.

He knows the waltz and that kind of things.

And she knows rock and 80's music.

He is such a golden retriever when she is just a black cat

But in private she's shining and in private he confides to something other than his diary.

So this is why they have to meet each other in the requirements room.

Slow burn + enemy to lovers

rival houses + diametrically opposed families

They are everything the other has never known but always dreamed of seeing

But if she has a Chimera as patronus... She must have a Slytherin's part in her heart...

...no ?

[lurafita]

Cracky thought about Magnus' and Lorenzo's rivalry.

During impromptu magic battle where Magnus was mostly deflecting Lorenzo's attacks.

Magnus: "I think we need to talk. Now, don't take this personally, it's not like I don't greatly dislike you and everything you stand for. Believe me, I do. But I'm afraid this little archrivalry thing we have going on, where we attack each other on sight and despite your best efforts, I end up besting you with an almost comical level of indifference… It's just not working for me anymore."

Lorenzo, in the middle of preparing an explosive spell to throw at Magnus, looking up, taken aback, his magic evaporating as he takes a step back: "It's… It's not?"

Magnus, shaking his head sadly: "No, it's not. It was fun, at first. Your ego being what it is, knowing that even the slightest little provocation would be enough to tip you into a pompous rage and start a little magical sparring match that would help me to get rid of some restless energy and vent some frustration,- But, well…" searching for the right words, an apologetic shrug, "It's just, you are not really what I'm looking for in a serious archrivalry, and it's time to move on. I think we should start fighting other people."

Lorenzo, mouth agape: "Fighting oth- have you met someone new?!"

Magnus: "Well, not exactly someone new, but… Look. I have killed demons in Edom who were additionally empowered by the realm. I have fought both Lilith and my father in their realm. And they gave me this feeling of a real challenge that I just haven't felt with you in years, … Also my stamina rune powered boyfriend is very good at helping me kill any restless energy I might have. Actually he is too good at it. There have been times where I was so exhausted, not to mention sore after-"

Lorenzo: "DON'T finish that sentence! So… that's just it? It's over?"

Magnus: "I'm sorry. We can still trade insults when we are together."

Lorenzo: "IT'S NOT THE SAME!" runs away crying

[keycomicbooks]

Void Rivals art by Lorenzo De Felici

[kryptonbabe]

I'm microwaving him for 30 seconds, I'm chewing his green helmet, I'm putting him in winter clothes and taking him to the park, I'm

From Void Rivals Vol. 2 - Across the Wasteland (2024) by Robert Kirkman & Lorenzo de Felici

[42bakery]

Jorge just sounded unhappy ti have Vale and Daniel in the same track while he's in Spain

[evilhorse]

Void Rivals #16