s1ater

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐠𝐨.

412 posts

Butting Heads.

butting heads.

pairings. lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

about. you’re jumped and refuse to tell lorenzo what happened.

warning. foul language, a lil violence

ricky is typing… louis is my current obsession. also tried to dye my hair brown and it turned ginger 💀💀💀💀 fml

“who hit you?”

oh, boy.

“doesn’t matter,” you push not only his hands away, but the entirety of his hovering body before this situation could escalate anymore than it had just by him seeing you.

“no,” he shakes his head, turning on the heal of his foot to follow you. “no, what the fuck happened?”

“lo, calm the fuck down.”

he clenched his jaw to the retaliation and sourness in your voice. he rolled his neck in a circle, his head tipped toward the ceiling, refraining himself from blowing up on you.

she’s just mad.

he grabs your arm before you can walk too much farther, pulling you till you were pressed against one of the walls of your room, “you got a bruise on your cheekbone,” he presses the side of his index finger against the dark coloration, almost making you wince. “one right here,” he presses lightly against your jaw, “and blood here,” and then his thumb against the corner of your mouth.

his voice was as quiet as it could get, till; “so don’t tell me to calm the fuck down when you look like you’ve gotten into a pub fight and someone tried to kill you.”

you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from squirming in the tight spot lorenzo had you in.

he continues to look down on you with prying and hard eyes, waiting for you to speak while his fingers still lightly hovered over the tender-bruising flesh of your face.

“act like you’ve never been hit before,” you move from beneath his body somehow, making your way to your dresser.

“but i tell you,” his voice was only getting more aggravated as you protested from saying the truth.“so why don’t you stop being a prude and let out what happened.”

“why do you care?” you’re pulling on one of your sweaters over your head, pressing your lips together immediately in a hard fine line in your own regret to your question.

oh, he was about to pull his hair out of his head, “i’m beginning to ask myself the same thing,” he stares at you, waiting for you to look back at him and when you finally do, it’s so you can watch him walk out.

“well it’s nice to see your beautiful shining face this morning,” blaise is all smiles the moment you sit down across the table from him, his eyes profiling every bit of your still freshly beaten features.

he seems to be the only one not devastated.

“dear god,” theodore’s face scrunches in shock as he gets a look at you from the side. “what happened to you?”

“piss off.”

“well!” blaise grins harder, “face matches the attitude for once.”

they sound like hounds when suddenly laughing, making your mood decline even more.

“alright, what happened to ‘er?” draco’s lips are jerked into a smirk as he leans further against the table, trying to look at enzo through blaise. “you didn’t hit her, ole’ boy, did you?”

lorenzo is far from amused. this kills your own bad mood to the realization of him staring at you, almost angered looking.

“i don’t know,” he barely opens his mouth to say it. “why would i know?” his harsh stare is still directed on you. “no reason to care.”

the amusement is killed immediately by his ill-mannered tone and the only distinct sound is the clustered talking of your fellow classmates around the hall. the tension is a thick warmth that they can all suddenly feel with discomfort.

you bite your tongue till you could taste blood. the metallic relish almost overpowered the barging stares.

“alright,” theodore coughs awkwardly from beside you, shifting so he’s angled directly to you. “you got your face beaten in, who did it?”

oh lorenzo would be so mad if you said it now. if you would say it to theodore, but not him.

“face beaten? that bad, huh?” you wince hard at the sound of pansy’s voice calling out from behind you. “i fucking hate those ravenclaw girls. they hate when they can’t have what you have.”

she slides in nonchalantly on the other side of you, continuing to speak without a problem, “you sure know how to pick ‘em, enzo.”

“what?” he watches her begin to examine the bruises and cuts on your face with a calm stare before overlooking the the food laid out on the table.

his eyebrows were pulled high, caught off guard to her sour statement.

“every ravenclaw girl you have ever touched, jumped your girlfriend in the washroom because your dick was that good,” she’s pulling apart food now, lightly stuffing her face as she continues to answer. “held her down-“

you got up before you could hear another word from her mouth. it’d be like reliving it to hear it from her. lorenzo looks between the both of you agitatedly, not knowing if to follow or listen. pansy raises her brows to the fact he hadn't moved.

“y/n,” he follows.

he attempts to pace fast after you from the other side of the table, a feeling of despair in his chest in the thought that this was really his fault.

“y/n,” he’s on your tail, close to grabbing you but you kept treading as fast as you could. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“think about it, lorenzo, why would i?” your finger nails press hard in and out into the palm of your hand. “it’s bound to happen with the number of girls on your track record.”

“okay,” he bites his tongue at the foul tasting sentence. “y/n, can you just slow down and talk to me?”

“what do you want to talk about?” you didn’t slow.

“will you please-“ he finally grabs your arm, practically yanking you back to stop and face him. “i need you to look at me and i need you to tell me why you wouldn’t tell me what happened to you.”

“how am i supposed to tell you that?” you look at him dumbfounded. he could tell you were still angry, or frustrated, or whatever it was you were feeling.

“i’m supposed to protect you, y/n” his eyes thin out into a squint as if shocked you didn't assume this. “i can’t do that when you don’t talk to me.”

“protect me, lorenzo? i don’t need to be protected. they’re teenage girls for god sake; you pull their hair and they cry.”

he almost laughs at your sour tone, wondering if that was the case for you. he doubted it, you wouldn't be caught dead with tears.

“still, why wouldn’t you tell me?”

he was starting to sound like a broken record, his own words were becoming annoying to him.

“because it’s embarrassing, alright? i feel embarrassed.”

maybe you did cry. you looked stressed, like you could be knocked to your feet at any moment from how unbalanced you were in the head.

"are you gonna feel good about telling me you got jumped in the washroom and didn't get the chance to fight back?"

he looks annoyed at your trap question. he was trying so hard to be nice, to just listen and offer what he could. but his patience was running thin and you could tell by the tint in his eyes. he didn't even care for the distraught look in your eyes anymore.

"fine," he turned his head to the side, poking his tongue into the base of his cheek. "fine, baby. you wanna be like that, that's fine. i don't really care anymore. as long as your fine and you don't care, i don't care."

this was a lose-lose situation. it always was when the two of you would butt heads. you both were stubborn and easily annoyed.

lorenzo raised his hands like waving a white flag, giving up. he started to walk away now and all you could do was watch—again.

“lorenzo, it’s been awhile,” a girl with dark brown hair straddled the bench to the slytherin table, almost sitting in his lap with a glint in her eye that made all of his friends frown. “we haven’t talked like you said.”

there’s a visible tenseness in him the moment she started speaking. his chewing came to a hault as well as any visible breathing. he’s not sure what he should do, he can’t think, but he doesn’t dare look at her.

it had been two days since lorenzo gave up on trying to comfort you and it was dreadful, for everyone. tension had been higher than usual and they would barely see the two of you in the same room without their being some kind of tightness in the air.

“i uh, i met your girlfriend.”

blaise looks to theodore who’s closely speculated on lorenzo and what he’ll say, what he’ll do. he sees the furrow that forms in enzo’s brow, the annoyance and even anger that dilates his eyes to the sound of her sentence—he realizes.

blaise now looks draco now, who looks back. this could go so many ways.

“my girlfriend?” his brow arches. this is what got him to look at her.

“yeah,” she smiles, he took the bait. she now takes it as cue to reach out to him, to make contact by pressing her fingers against his green tie. he feels a slight pull as she pinches the sleek fabric between her finger tips, attempting to subtly bring him closer. “she’s so darling.”

taunt.

“she tell you that we spoke, lo?”

“i didn’t have to.”

suddenly she’s on her ass with your hand wrapped around her hair, yelping like a kicked dog, “now fuck off.”

“now you’re acting all tough,” she struggles to her feet. “that wasn’t the case the last time i saw you.”

“maybe because you don’t have five other girls sniffing your ass and commands.”

she smiles, “sure, or maybe you’re just-“

you punch her straight in the nose, making her cry out fast.

“oh, jesus,” lorenzo grabs you by your arm, pulling you close to him as he marched you straight out the dining hall. “i thought you didn’t care.”

“fuck you, jackass, i don’t appreciate it when other girls are practically on my boyfriend’s dick,” you’re still pressed hard into his side as he lets out a loud laugh.

you wrench yourself from his side once out of the dining hall. you’re now walking backwards as you grab onto his tie, yanking on it, “grabbing his clothes and calling him something she shouldn’t be calling him.”

he’s grinning cheek to cheek at your angry rambling.

“fuck you.”

“yeah baby, tell me how you really feel,” he presses his tongue against the base of his teeth, watching the way you look at him with everything but hate now.

“i think you know how i feel.”

“yeah,” his lips prick into a smirk as he now grabs you, pulling you back into him. “you’re pretty when you’re mad.”

“is that right?” you’re wiggling in his grasp, now turning so you’re facing him. “i like when you talk to me nice.”

he scoffs, “you’re a brat,” but he still looks highly amused. “next time one of those girls come near you, tell me-“

“what, you gonna save me?”

“always.”

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Butting Heads.

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