tszkrx

[tszkrx]

improv | louis partridge x reader

The first day on set felt like stepping into a whirlwind. Lights blazed overhead, voices buzzed as crew members rushed to finalize everything, and you stood off to the side, trying to ground yourself in the chaos. This was your biggest role yet—a sweeping period romance—and you had been preparing for months. But nothing could’ve prepared you for Louis Partridge.

He walked in casually, like he’d done this a million times before, his tousled hair and easy smile making him seem like he belonged on the cover of every magazine. He spotted you almost immediately and crossed the room with a confidence that made your heart skip.

"Hi," he said, his British accent soft and smooth, extending a hand. "Louis. Looks like we’re about to spend a lot of time pretending to be in love."

The cheeky glint in his eye made your cheeks warm, but you shook his hand with a smile. "Y/N. Let’s hope we’re good at pretending."

Weeks on Set

Pretending turned out to be easier than you thought. In every scene, Louis was magnetic. The way he looked at you during takes made it impossible not to believe he was truly in love. Off-camera, he was just as charming, constantly cracking jokes or teasing you in between takes.

“Careful,” he said one afternoon, handing you a cup of tea as you sat on the steps of the trailer. “Can’t have you losing your voice. Who’ll cry over me in the big finale?”

You rolled your eyes, but your laugh betrayed you. “Please, I’m carrying this movie. You should be worried about keeping up.”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling in the golden afternoon light. “Fair point. I’ll try not to let you down.”

The banter was constant, the teasing endless. Yet, beneath it all, there were moments where the line between the characters you played and the people you were blurred. The way his fingers lingered on yours during rehearsals. The way he’d bring you a coffee just the way you liked it without asking. And the way his gaze would linger on you, even when the cameras weren’t rolling.

The Turning Point

The scene was a pivotal one—the first kiss. You’d both rehearsed it endlessly, blocking out the choreography, ensuring it looked perfect. But when the director called “Action,” and Louis leaned in, the world fell away.

It wasn’t just a kiss for the cameras. It was something more. His lips were soft against yours, his hand gentle on your cheek, and when the director yelled “Cut,” neither of you moved immediately. You pulled back slowly, your eyes meeting his, and for the first time, Louis seemed genuinely flustered.

“Uh…” he began, running a hand through his hair. “I think that was…good?”

You nodded, your voice catching. “Yeah. Good.”

But something had shifted.

Off the Script

By the time the movie wrapped, your friendship with Louis had grown into something more, though neither of you had explicitly acknowledged it. The wrap party was a blur of lights, music, and laughter, and you found yourself on the balcony, needing a moment of quiet.

Louis joined you, two glasses of champagne in hand. “Hiding from your adoring fans already?”

You took the glass, smiling. “Just needed a breather. It’s…a lot.”

He leaned against the railing, his gaze soft as he studied you. “You’ve handled it brilliantly. Not that I ever doubted you.”

The sincerity in his voice made you pause, your heart swelling. “You’ve been amazing too. I couldn’t have asked for a better…partner.”

The word hung between you, loaded with meaning. Louis set his glass down, turning to face you fully. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Spending months pretending to love someone and then realizing…you don’t have to pretend at all.”

Your breath caught, his words sinking in. “Louis…”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re incredible, Y/N. On screen, off screen…every moment I’ve spent with you has been the best part of this whole experience.”

For a moment, you didn’t trust yourself to speak. Then, taking a deep breath, you said, “I feel the same way.”

His smile was soft, genuine, as he reached out to take your hand. “So…what do we do now?”

You laughed, the sound light and easy. “Maybe we stop pretending and see where it takes us.”

And as he leaned in, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your forehead under the glow of the city lights, you realized you couldn’t haactingve written a better love story if you tried.

[tszkrx]

helpless victim | ethan landry x reader

The hum of the kitchen lights was the only sound as I sat at Ethan’s kitchen table, tapping my pen on my notebook. The economics project had barely progressed, but my mind refused to focus on anything besides the overwhelming feeling of discomfort in the room.

Ethan was at the sink, washing his dishes, his back turned to me. I could see the muscles in his shoulders tightening as he moved, as if something inside him was wound up just a little too tight. The silence between us stretched on, making it harder to ignore the strange shift in his mood.

I glanced around the room, eyes drifting aimlessly, when I saw it.

The laundry basket in the corner, partially hidden behind the door. It didn’t look unusual at first, just a heap of clothes tossed in, but there—half visible—was something black, something so familiar it made my stomach flip.

A mask. A cheap black polyester mask.

My heart stuttered in my chest. It wasn’t just any mask. I recognized it. It was the one that had been all over the news lately. The one tied to the series of attacks happening in town.

I turned my eyes away quickly, hoping to erase the image, pretending like I hadn’t seen it. But the pit in my stomach only deepened.

"Ethan," I started, trying to keep my voice steady. He didn’t answer, still focused on his dishes.

I hesitated. Should I say something? Should I confront him about it? But I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

I stole another glance at the basket, trying not to be obvious, but my mind kept racing. Why was it here? What was it doing in his house?

My hands were suddenly clammy as I fought to control the urge to panic.

But Ethan must have noticed my shift in focus. His movements paused for a moment. The silence stretched, and then, finally, he turned around, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes met mine, and for the first time, I noticed the way his expression had hardened.

“You good?” His voice was casual, too casual, but there was a sharpness to it that made me freeze.

“Yeah,” I forced out, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Just—just tired.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. His eyes flicked toward the laundry basket, the mask still half-hidden inside it. Then, almost imperceptibly, he took a step closer to me, closing the distance.

The air between us felt thicker, heavier.

“You sure you’re okay?” he repeated, his voice still too calm, like he was testing something.

I nodded, but my pulse quickened. He was watching me too closely. He had noticed. I could tell.

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything more. The words were caught in my throat, choking me.

Ethan leaned against the counter, folding his arms casually as though the mask, the costume—everything—was no big deal. "You know, Y/N," he said slowly, his voice smooth and deceptively soft. "I don’t think you’re as clueless as you let on."

The words made my stomach drop. I didn’t say anything, but I felt myself go rigid.

“Is that why you’ve been so quiet?” he continued, his voice low, almost like a whisper. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

My heart hammered in my chest, but I forced myself to look him in the eye. He knew. He knew that I had seen it. There was no denying it now.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, but I couldn’t stop my hands from trembling on the table.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. He moved like he had all the time in the world, and the closer he got, the more I felt the unease grow into something deeper—something darker.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said, his voice now barely above a murmur, like it was a secret between us. “I’m not stupid. I saw you looking at it.”

I swallowed hard, unable to pull my eyes away from his. Something in the air was shifting. The tension was unbearable.

“I— I didn’t mean to,” I muttered, not sure what I was trying to say or why I even bothered. “I wasn’t... I didn’t...”

Ethan leaned in, his breath warm against my skin as he spoke, too close for comfort. His smile was small, cruel in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “It’s fine,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing the back of my hand for just a second, making my skin crawl. “It’s not like you can do anything about it now.”

I wanted to pull away, to stand up, to run, but I couldn’t. It was like my feet were glued to the floor, my body frozen in place.

His eyes darkened slightly as he straightened, pulling back and giving me a once-over. "You’re smart, Y/N. You’ve already figured it out, haven’t you?"

I didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes told me everything. He was daring me to confront him, daring me to say something—anything—to break the silence.

But I didn’t have the words.

And I didn’t know what would happen if I did.

“You should go,” he said suddenly, his voice flat now, as if the conversation was over. “You’re probably getting tired.”

I stared at him, disoriented by how easily he could flip the switch, how casually he dismissed everything. Everything I had seen, everything I was starting to understand, meant nothing to him.

Without another word, he turned back to the sink, dismissing me as though nothing had happened. As if I hadn’t just stumbled upon the truth that chilled my very bones.

I stood there, my chest tightening, my legs barely able to carry me.

Ethan Landry had no remorse.

He hadn’t cared then, and he didn’t care now.

[tszkrx]

never noticed | rafe cameron x reader

rafe's pov ;)

The sound of distant waves crashing against the shoreline mixed with the quiet chatter in the kitchen. Rafe stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, the cool evening breeze drifting in through the open windows. His eyes drifted over to her—y/n—as she sat cross-legged on the tiled floor, gently cradling a tiny, shivering kitten in her lap.

He hadn’t even noticed her come in earlier, not until Sarah mentioned something about y/n always finding strays. Now he couldn’t stop watching her, mesmerized by the softness in her touch as she dabbed at the kitten’s fur with a damp cloth. The tiny creature’s pitiful meows were growing quieter, comforted by her presence.

“I couldn’t just leave her there,” y/n said, her voice cutting through the haze of his thoughts. She glanced up briefly, her warm brown eyes meeting Rose’s curious gaze. “She was soaking wet and starving. Poor thing must’ve been out there for days.”

“You’re going to end up with a whole zoo if you keep this up,” Sarah teased, though her tone was affectionate.

Y/n laughed softly, the sound so light and unguarded it made something tighten in Rafe’s chest. “I’d rather that than leave them to fend for themselves. Besides, she’s adorable, isn’t she?”

“Adorable,” Rose agreed with a polite smile, though her focus was already drifting back to her glass of wine. Ward didn’t even look up from his phone.

“How’s the volleyball team doing?” Sarah asked, shifting the conversation. “I still can’t believe you’ve been to nationals every year. And now a global championship? Insane.”

“It was a team effort,” y/n said modestly, though a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “The girls worked so hard for it. Winning felt… surreal. But we’ve got to stay focused. There’s always another challenge ahead.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed as he listened. That’s just who she was, wasn’t it? The girl who never stopped. Always striving, always doing something. It had been easy to dismiss her when they were younger—Sarah’s spoiled, bossy best friend with everything handed to her. But now, watching her like this, he realized how blind he’d been.

She wasn’t spoiled. She was driven. She wasn’t bossy. She was compassionate. She wasn’t just rich. She was talented and kind-hearted in ways he never bothered to notice before.

His eyes dropped back to the kitten in her lap, purring softly now as she stroked its head. The tenderness in her every movement, the way she spoke about the tournament, about her teammates—it all painted a picture of someone far more complex than he’d allowed himself to see.

She was so much more.

“What’s its name?” The question was out of his mouth before he could think twice. Her head snapped up, surprise flickering across her face as if she’d forgotten he was even there.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said, her tone gentler than he deserved. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Rafe shifted uncomfortably, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He didn’t know why he’d even asked. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing—small talk, or whatever this was.

“Uh…” His mind blanked for a moment before he mumbled, “Maybe… Lucky? Since you found her just in time.”

Y/n’s smile was small but genuine. “Lucky. I like that.”

Her approval sent an unexpected warmth through him, and he quickly averted his gaze, focusing on the pattern of the floor tiles instead. He could feel Sarah watching him, probably with that smug, knowing look she always had when she caught him acting “soft.”

“You’re full of surprises, Rafe,” y/n said after a moment, her voice tinged with quiet amusement.

He glanced back at her, the kitten now curled up asleep in her lap. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, though there was no edge to his tone.

She tilted her head slightly, considering him. “Nothing bad. Just… you’re not who I thought you were.”

The words hit him harder than they should have. Not because she’d misjudged him, but because she wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t who she thought he was. Hell, he wasn’t even sure who he was supposed to be. But for some reason, the way she looked at him just then—like she was seeing something better in him—made him want to try.

He nodded toward the kitten. “Guess she’s lucky you’re the one who found her.”

“Maybe we’re both lucky,” she said softly, almost to herself.

He hesitated, then spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “You’re not what I thought either.”

Her brows lifted slightly, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. “You’re not just… Sarah’s best friend. You’re more than that. You’re… kind. And talented. And…” He trailed off, feeling his face grow hot. “You’re not what I thought. That’s all.”

Y/n studied him for a long moment, her expression softening. “Thank you, Rafe,” she said finally, her voice quiet but sincere. “That means a lot.”

And just like that, Rafe knew he was in trouble.

[tszkrx]

among the ashes | mattheo riddle x reader

The night was heavy with silence as Mattheo Riddle walked through the halls of Hogwarts, his mind consumed with the weight of his choices. He had become a ghost in his own skin, always avoiding the ones he loved most, especially Y/N.

For weeks, his behavior had shifted. He’d become quieter, more distant, until one day, his absence became a suffocating presence in her life. No matter how much she tried to reach out to him, something had been holding him back. But what could it be?

The answer came in the worst possible way.

Y/N had found him one evening, sitting at the edge of a balcony overlooking the grounds. His sleeve was rolled up, and without thinking, she stepped closer, catching a glimpse of something she knew she would never forget.

The Dark Mark.

Her breath hitched in her throat. There it was, etched into his skin, a stark contrast against the pale of his arm. She knew the history, the horror that came with it. The Dark Lord’s followers wore that mark as a symbol of their allegiance, and for Mattheo to have it, it could only mean one thing.

But Y/N didn’t speak. She didn’t call his name or ask him why. She stood there for a moment, her heart aching with the weight of the situation, knowing that whatever he’d done, it had been for a reason—one that she might never fully understand.

Mattheo hadn’t noticed her at first. His eyes were distant, focused on nothing. But then he turned, and their gazes met.

His face drained of color, his lips parted as if to say something, but the words failed him. He was terrified, and for a moment, Y/N could feel his fear ripple through the air. He hadn’t expected her to see it, not like this.

Y/N swallowed, taking a slow, measured breath as she stepped closer to him. There was no anger in her eyes, no questions, just a quiet understanding that he had done what he had to do. She’d always known Mattheo. She knew the kind of person he was, the kindness he hid beneath layers of fear and doubt. And this, whatever it was, had broken him in ways she couldn’t even imagine.

“You did what you had to,” Y/N said softly, her words deliberate. She gently placed a hand on his arm, her fingers tracing the outline of the Dark Mark. “I don’t blame you.”

Mattheo’s eyes fluttered shut at her touch, as if the simple contact could somehow ground him. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be marked. But... He gave me a choice, Y/N. It was him or you. I couldn’t—” His voice broke, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. “I couldn’t let him hurt you. I had no choice.”

Y/N squeezed his arm, a gentle pressure meant to comfort, to assure him that this didn’t change anything between them. It never would. “I know,” she whispered, voice soft, steady. “I know. I understand. You did what you thought was best. You did it to protect me.”

The words seemed to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders. His breath came out shakily as he looked at her, his gaze full of guilt, of self-loathing. “I thought you’d hate me when you saw it. I thought you’d never look at me the same way again.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a soft smile as she stepped closer, her fingers still lightly holding his arm. “Why would I hate you?” she asked quietly. “You’re still the same person to me, Mattheo. Nothing’s changed.”

“You don’t understand,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You don’t know what I’ve done, what I’ve agreed to. I’m bound to him now. I’m...” He faltered, unable to put his thoughts into words. “I’m not the person you thought I was.”

But Y/N shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. She could see the torment in his gaze, the regret. She knew him well enough to understand that this was something he would never have chosen unless forced into it.

“You are exactly the person I thought you were,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “You did this to keep me safe. That’s all I need to know. You’re not a monster, Mattheo.”

The guilt in his eyes softened, but it didn’t disappear. He was still haunted by the decision he had made, by the part of him that had to live with it every day.

“I’m not a monster,” he repeated under his breath, as if the words were a lifeline. “But I feel like one.”

Y/N’s fingers brushed the side of his face, gently turning his chin so that their eyes met once more. “You’re not a monster. You’re the person I love. You always have been.”

His heart stopped at her words. He’d been expecting her to pull away, to tell him it was over, that she couldn’t be with someone who carried such a mark. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t turned her back on him.

And in that moment, something inside him finally broke free—the suffocating guilt, the crushing fear.

“Thank you,” Mattheo whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” Y/N replied firmly. “You’ve always deserved me. And I’ll never leave you, not because of this. We’ll get through it, Mattheo. Together.”

He closed his eyes at her words, a wave of relief washing over him. She was the anchor he needed in the storm that had become his life. And somehow, no matter how far down the dark path he’d walked, she had never let him go.

The war had come, and Mattheo had fought alongside his father, though every move he made was suffused with guilt. He wasn’t fighting for the Dark Lord, not really—not when his heart belonged to Y/N. But the choice had been made, and now he had to live with the consequences.

As the final battle drew to a close, Mattheo found himself searching desperately for her. The ruins of Hogwarts seemed endless, the air thick with the remnants of destruction. When he saw her, lying amongst the wreckage, blood staining her clothes, his heart lurched painfully in his chest.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice desperate, raw.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she managed a weak smile, though it was evident how much pain she was in. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “We won.”

Mattheo’s hands shook as he knelt beside her, taking her into his arms. “You’re not okay,” he breathed, his voice breaking. “You’re not okay, but I’ll fix this. I’ll make it better, I swear.”

“I’m just... tired,” she murmured, her hand resting on his chest. “But I’m not going anywhere, Mattheo. Not when we’ve made it this far.”

His heart ached at her words, but there was a small, bittersweet comfort in them. They had survived. They had made it through the war, through everything. And somehow, despite the mistakes, the pain, they had come out the other side stronger than before.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too,” she replied softly, her hand curling around his.

In that moment, amidst the ruins of the war, amidst all the chaos and destruction, there was only one thing that mattered. They were together. And no Dark Mark, no mistake, could ever change that.

_

authors note;

idky i always seem to follow this sort of theme when it comes to mattheo fics. but at least this one has a happy ending :')

[tszkrx]

the distance between us | throdore nott x reader

The winds outside the castle howled as the storm raged on, but inside the dimly lit Slytherin common room, all was still. The faint glow of the fire flickered, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Theodore Nott sat in the corner, a book open in his lap but his eyes far from the pages. His thoughts were elsewhere, plagued by a series of decisions he could no longer undo.

Y/N sat across from him, tracing the rim of her teacup with a finger, her mind clearly elsewhere too. Their relationship had always been complicated, yet for a time, it had felt right. But now, something had shifted—something unspoken, something that had eroded the closeness they once shared. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment it had started, but she could feel it now, heavy in the air between them.

She glanced up at him, catching him staring at her. His expression was unreadable, almost distant.

“Theo,” she said softly, breaking the silence that had hung between them like a thick fog. “What’s going on with you?”

Theodore didn’t answer right away. He looked at her, his dark eyes filled with an unreadable sadness. He had always been a master of hiding his emotions, of pretending everything was fine, but lately, even he couldn’t fool himself.

“You’ve been distant,” she pressed, her voice laced with concern. “It’s like you’re here, but you’re not. You’ve been avoiding me.”

He sighed, a sound that seemed to come from the very depths of him. His gaze shifted away, focusing on the fire instead of her. “I’m not avoiding you,” he muttered, but even he could hear the lie in his words. “I just... I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” she asked, her voice breaking. It wasn’t anger that filled her voice, but something much worse—hurt, confusion. “Theo, you can’t keep doing this.”

Theodore looked back at her, guilt gnawing at him like a constant ache. He had wanted to explain, to tell her everything, but the words wouldn’t come. How could he tell her that he was pulling away because he was terrified of losing her? Or worse, that he was pushing her away because he couldn’t trust himself to stay?

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re already hurting me. This distance, this coldness—Theo, I don’t understand what happened to you. I thought we were in this together.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, running a hand through his messy dark hair, as if trying to find the right words. The storm outside seemed to reflect his internal chaos. Every part of him was at war—he loved her, he knew that, but there was a part of him, deep down, that felt unworthy of her love. That part told him it was better to pull away before he could ruin everything.

But even as he thought that, he knew it wasn’t true. The silence that had settled between them was a living thing now, growing more suffocating with every passing moment.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice shaking, “I’m sorry. I’ve been... I’ve been a mess. And it’s not you—it’s me. I’m scared.”

Her brow furrowed. “Scared of what?”

“Of everything.” His voice broke, and he looked away again, unable to meet her gaze. “Of being the reason you get hurt. Of failing you.”

She stood up, unable to sit still any longer. The words were too much, too heavy. “What are you talking about? You’re not going to fail me, Theo. You’re not going to hurt me. But you’re doing it right now by shutting me out.”

“I’m protecting you,” he muttered, standing up as well, pacing slightly. “I thought that if I distanced myself, it would be easier for you when it all falls apart. When this war comes... when I have to fight.”

Her face fell, and for the first time, her hurt was visible in her eyes, raw and exposed. “Theo, don’t say that. Don’t talk like that.”

“I’m not the person you think I am,” he said harshly, as though trying to convince both of them. “I can’t be what you need me to be. Not in this war, not in this world. You deserve better than... than whatever I am.”

Tears stung at her eyes as she stepped toward him. “Theo, you’re everything I need. I don’t care about your past or the war. I care about you. But if you keep pushing me away, there won’t be anything left of us to save.”

He flinched, the weight of her words hitting him harder than anything else. She was right, of course. He could feel everything slipping through his fingers, but he was too afraid to hold on tightly enough to stop it. His fear was drowning him, suffocating him in ways he didn’t know how to fight.

“Y/N, I...” he started, but the words caught in his throat.

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and despair. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

There was a long silence. The distance between them felt like an ocean now, so vast it seemed impossible to cross.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Theodore said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I already have, haven’t I?”

She nodded, her tears falling freely now. “You’ve hurt me more than you could ever know.”

He wanted to reach for her, to hold her, to beg for her forgiveness, but his limbs felt frozen. How could he fix this when it was already too late? How could he take back the space he’d put between them?

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking with the weight of his regret. “I’m so sorry.”

But she was already turning away, walking slowly toward the door. “I need time, Theo. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for you to come back.”

Theodore stood there, feeling his heart shatter as he watched her leave, her footsteps echoing in the silence of the common room. The door clicked shut behind her, and he was left standing in the cold, dark room, the fire now burning low.

He knew it was over for good this time.

[tszkrx]

when stars fade | mattheo riddle x afab reader

The days leading up to the war were nothing short of suffocating. The air in Hogwarts had thickened with tension, and every hallway seemed to echo with the weight of the impending battle. Yet, amid all the chaos, there was something far more pressing to you. Mattheo.

He had always been there for you. Through the quiet moments, through the whispered secrets in the dead of night, he had always been your constant. Your protector. The one who would drop everything in a heartbeat to ensure your safety, your well-being. But lately, something had shifted. Something had changed in him, and you couldn’t figure out why.

He had become distant. Cold, even. A version of him that didn’t seem real. He still looked at you, but his eyes lacked the warmth that had once filled them. His touch no longer held the tenderness it once did. It was as if a part of him had been torn away, leaving only the empty shell of the boy you had once loved.

You tried to talk to him. To reach out. But the more you tried, the further he seemed to slip away. And when he disappeared—a week before the war, just after a quiet conversation in the corridors—your heart sank. Nobody had an explanation, no one knew where he had gone. And then, just as suddenly, he returned—by his father’s side.

The man who had once been so gentle and kind was now a hollow version of himself. His once-soft gaze now felt like a mask, his words sharp and distant. He barely spared you a glance, and when he did, his eyes seemed so empty. You wanted to reach out, to shake him, to scream at him to come back to you, but you couldn’t. There was too much at stake now. The war was upon them all.

You watched him from a distance as he stood next to his father, the weight of their shared fate settling like a curse over him. But you knew. Deep down, you knew that Mattheo didn’t want this. That he didn’t want to fight by his father’s side. He was just too scared to fight back.

The battle was inevitable. Voldemort’s forces had taken the castle by storm, and chaos reigned. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, alongside Pansy and Theodore, though your heart ached for the boy you loved—now lost to the very darkness you had once fought against.

The battle raged for hours, and you felt the walls closing in around you. You had barely time to catch your breath, let alone process the chaos unfolding. The castle was in ruins, pieces of the walls crumbling as spells and curses lit up the night sky.

And then, as the final cries of battle subsided, you ran. The air was thick with smoke, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched for him—Mattheo. You had to find him. You needed him. But the world had shifted so violently that you weren’t sure if there was a way back.

You heard frantic footsteps, the sound of someone calling your name. “Y/n!” You turned, and there he was. Mattheo, running toward you with a desperation in his eyes that mirrored your own. But he wasn’t the same. His face was gaunt, his eyes distant, like the light inside him had been snuffed out completely.

“M-Mattheo?” Your voice cracked as you took a step forward, your heart torn between the overwhelming relief of seeing him and the ache that filled your chest at the sight of him, so broken.

He stopped in front of you, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for some sign of life—any sign that you were still the same. But all he saw was blood.

Your blood. Your body, battered and bruised, with cuts that had only begun to sting as the adrenaline wore off. You were covered in it—your own blood, your hands shaking as you tried to hold yourself up. You had been injured, badly, but nothing hurt worse than seeing Mattheo like this.

“Y/n,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he collapsed to his knees before you, his trembling hands reaching for your face. He cupped your cheeks gently, as if afraid you might shatter in his touch. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

His words didn’t make sense to you. Nothing did anymore. You could only feel the pain—your body aching, the weight of everything crashing down on you. But then, as the reality of it all hit you, you realized something: Mattheo wasn’t the same. He had changed. He had become something else entirely.

He wasn’t the boy you had fallen in love with.

You wanted to scream, to shake him and demand answers. But your body betrayed you. You could barely move, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and injury. All you could do was lay there in his arms, the pain of everything—everything you had lost—tearing through you.

“I didn’t want this, y/n,” he said, his voice breaking as his hand trembled against your skin. “I never wanted this. But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop him.”

His words cut deep, but they weren’t enough. You couldn’t hear him. You couldn’t understand him. Not now. Not with everything that had happened, everything that had changed.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeated, his words a mantra. But the apology was nothing more than hollow noise, empty in the face of everything you’d been through. In the face of the boy you had loved now standing before you, a stranger in his skin.

Your body spasmed in pain, and you cried out as fresh waves of agony washed over you. The pressure in your chest, the sting in your limbs, it was all too much. You couldn’t bear it.

“Don’t leave me, y/n,” Mattheo’s voice broke through your haze of pain, his hands clutching you desperately as though he was trying to hold you together. “Please. Please don’t leave me.”

But the words didn’t reach you. Not the way they used to. Not the way they had once made your heart flutter with hope. You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut, and the world around you blurred.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his lips brushing your forehead as his tears fell onto your skin. You could feel his hands trembling, his breath shaky. He was falling apart just as you were. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing could fix it now.

You could only squirm in his arms, the agony too much to bear as everything you had once known came crashing down. And when you opened your eyes, the last thing you saw was Mattheo—broken, lost, and full of regret. The boy who had once promised to protect you, now unable to save you from the ruins of everything.

And then… everything went dark.

[tszkrx]

lost and found | lorenzo berkshire x afab reader

The Slytherin common room was suffocatingly quiet. The only sound was the occasional crackling of the fire, but it felt more like an insult than comfort. Lorenzo sat by the window, staring at the night sky as if it could give him the answers he desperately needed. His friends stood around him, their faces filled with a mixture of frustration, disappointment, and anger. They were waiting, but Lorenzo had no words. Nothing felt right anymore.

Finally, Blaise spoke up, his voice calm but edged with impatience. “Lorenzo, what the hell happened? Where did you go?”

Lorenzo didn't look up. He couldn’t. His own guilt was too suffocating, his mind too clouded. All he wanted was to rewind, to take it all back. But that was impossible.

“I thought...” His voice was barely above a whisper, but even that felt wrong. “I thought if I stayed away, I could protect her.”

“Protect her?” Draco echoed, incredulous. He leaned forward, his eyes hard. “By leaving her alone?”

Lorenzo finally lifted his gaze to meet Draco’s, the weight of their shared history in that single glance. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he muttered. “I thought... I thought she’d be safer without me around. The war was coming, and...”

“And you thought abandoning her would keep her safe?” Theodore’s voice cut through the room like a knife. “You think that’s how it works? You left her to fend for herself, Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo couldn’t respond. He had no defense. There was nothing he could say to make this right.

“Where were you?” Pansy’s voice was sharp, colder than it had ever been with him. “Where did you go? We all needed you here. She needed you.”

The guilt twisted inside him like a physical ache. His friends had been right there, supporting him all this time, but he’d turned his back on them and her, and for what? To protect her from something that never even happened?

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, so softly it was almost a prayer. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“You left her,” Pansy repeated, her words icy, “and now look at what’s happened. She was taken. Tortured. All because you weren’t there when she needed you.”

The sound of the door creaking open froze them all. Y/N stepped into the room, her presence immediately filling the space, but it was different now. There was a coldness about her, a hard edge that hadn’t been there before. She didn’t look at anyone except Lorenzo.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” she said, her voice flat, emotionless.

Lorenzo felt his heart stop at the sight of her. It was like she was a different person entirely. Gone was the girl he had loved, the girl who had always believed in him. In her place was someone... broken. Someone who had endured far too much.

“I don’t have an explanation,” Lorenzo started, his voice cracking with the weight of everything he had to say. “But I never wanted you to go through that. I didn’t know what would happen...”

“Didn’t know what would happen?” she repeated, her voice rising, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You didn’t know? You didn’t think that leaving me alone was going to kill me? You think that was some kind of protection?”

Lorenzo took a shaky breath, his hands trembling. “I thought... I thought I was saving you.”

“You didn’t save me, Lorenzo,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You abandoned me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The realization hit him with the force of a brick to the chest. He had left her to face the worst moments of her life alone.

“I was taken,” she continued, her voice steady but cold. “I was tortured. By the very people you claimed you were fighting against. And where were you? Hiding in the shadows because you thought it would keep me safe?”

“I thought it would...” He trailed off, his words useless, swallowed up by the enormity of her pain. “I was trying to protect you.”

“You don’t protect people by running away from them,” she snapped, her eyes burning with a pain he had no idea how to fix. “You protect them by staying, by fighting for them. By being there when it matters. But you weren’t. You left.”

“I didn’t want to see you get hurt.” His voice faltered. “I didn’t want to see you suffer because of me.”

“You were the one who hurt me,” she whispered. “And you still don’t get it, do you?”

Lorenzo was trembling now, guilt overwhelming him. “I know. I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I didn’t know what to do. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You weren’t,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You weren’t doing the right thing. You were scared. You were scared and you left me to deal with it all on my own.”

Pansy stood behind her, her arms crossed. “I think she’s right. You didn’t protect her. You abandoned her, and now look where we are.”

“I... I can’t fix this,” Lorenzo said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’ve messed everything up.”

“You can’t,” Y/N said. She was looking at him, her gaze empty. “You can’t fix what you broke. Not this time.”

Lorenzo reached out, but Y/N took a step back, her eyes never leaving his. The space between them felt like an entire universe. He wanted to apologize again, to tell her he loved her, but the words were hollow now.

“I can’t forgive you,” she said softly. “I don’t think I ever will.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He wanted to scream, to make it all go away, but he couldn’t. All he had left were empty apologies and a shattered heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely audible, but it was useless. She was already turning away, walking toward the door.

Pansy’s voice stopped her. “As your friend, I’ll be by your side and hold you accountable. As her best friend, I hope she never finds forgiveness in her heart to spare you.”

Y/N didn’t look back. She didn’t have to. The damage had already been done.

Lorenzo stood there, feeling the weight of his mistakes press down on him until he was sure he couldn’t breathe. She was gone. He had lost her. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, he could do to get her back.