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i just checked this app after some time of being drowned in college stuff 😭 and i can definitely say that i am delighted that i checked your blaise post because-

what would it take for me to find myself one blaise zabini this instance?

i am incredibly deprived of my favorite fictional men and it is indeed gratifying to finally be free of burden (school works) weighing down my shoulders and bask in my favorite place to satiate my fictional needs—so i hereby acknowledge your talents my dear wordsmith, i am truly enticed by your works and will forever be therefore let me reread yet another masterpiece of yours to relieve my painfully disturbed time settled supposedly for my reading endeavors! i shall see you next in another composition of yours!

with much grace (that i can muster into words) and appreciation,

the girl who's reading endeavors may never cease,

to the gifted wordsmith that bestowed me the pleasure of experiencing new worlds.

thank you <3

Love, Anonymous | Blaise Zabini

Synopsis: The rumor mill at Hogwarts has expanded into physical print, and with it, a buzzing section dedicated to anonymous confessions. 

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff!Reader

Notes: I accidentally grew extremely fond of Ernie while writing this. Susan Bones supremacy, always.

Word Count: 4.8k

The infamous rumor mill of Hogwarts, upheld by boisterous Gryffindors Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, seemed to finally reach eminence in the social sphere of the castle. It was a long time coming, you thought. Grapevines. Heard from a friend. Through an open door — nothing was as fascinating as the arbitrary spiel that grew to fruition in the rumor mill. 

“I’m impressed. With all of this, you’d think Lavender was going after Skeeter’s job.” Susan hums, eyes scanning over the leaflets of paper lain strewn in front of you both. 

Ernie snorts as he shovels a spoonful of peas into his mouth, eyes rooted to the ceiling as he awaited the daily post, “What a load of bollocks.” 

“Hey, now. Don’t be so curt with it, E.” You muse, mouth folding into a wry grin as you pick up one of the loose papers, bringing it to eye-level so you could read it, “Look at this riveting slice of writing, Hogwarts Anonymous: With the Yule Ball so fresh in the minds of the student body–” 

“Fresh? It was almost three bloody years ago.” Ernie interjects, tongue clicking loudly as the sea of owls begin to scurry across the plane of the ceiling, dropping rolls and boxes of news and gifts. However, the surge of mail went largely ignored as many students remained engrossed in the new Hogwarts gossip column. 

You shoot Ernie a stern look at the interruption, but continue when Susan releases an amused huff, “As I was saying—With the Yule Ball so fresh in the minds of the student body and love so sorely missed as a result, Hogwarts Anonymous is dedicated to working towards the revival of matchmaking. To submit an anonymous clip of your own, reach out to Parvati Patil for inquiries.” 

“Love so sorely missed?” Susan echoes, eyes blown wide in disbelief. 

“Poetic. Inspired. Riveting. Ingenious.” Ernie utters with faux sincerity, ignoring the raucous younger years fighting behind him. 

You nod, barely able to conceal your grin as your eyes drop further down the blocks of text, seeing a few confessions and messages splayed across the paper. As you continue to read through the text, a sudden passage has you choking on your spit, thumb pressing harshly against the flimsy paper as your eyes narrow. 

Ernie peers up at you from his plate, glancing towards Susan as they both share unimpressed looks. Eventually, it’s Susan who plucks up the voice to question your sudden bafflement, “Y/N? Are you alright there?” 

“Y/N looks like a startled crup puppy in Arithmancy.” You recite rigidly, feeling the paper warp and crease under your unrelenting grip. 

There is an unsettling pause in the atmosphere, as though the entirety of the dining hall has paused in their routine to listen to the confession, but it soon washes away as Ernie practically howls in laughter, his broad frame throttling forward as he tries to muffle his guffaw. 

Susan, ever the diplomat, proves to be more successful at maintaining her composure, but you don’t miss the small grin that tugs at her lips as she reaches over to grasp the paper, “Here, give me that.” 

“Crup puppy? Oh my goodness! That is bloody—Ow! Hey! Okay, stop!” Ernie’s fit of laughter and verbal tirade is swiftly dealt with as you send numerous stinging hexes his way, basking in the alarmed glint in his eyes. 

Susan shakes her head at both of your antics, and folds the paper up, eyes scanning the room as she muses, “How romantic. You just have to wonder who the culprit is.” 

“Merlin. It might just be a prank. Or maybe someone has a vendetta against me.” You groan with exasperation, realizing that just about everyone in the castle was going to be hearing about it. 

Ernie bumps his shoulder against yours and grins, “Chin up, Y/N. If someone’s out to get ya, Susan and I will send them to their maker—without their kneecaps, rest assured.” 

You roll your eyes but nod in appreciation, gaze falling down to your pitiful plate of food as your mind is thrust into overdrive. Hopefully, it would all blow over by the next day. 

Wishful thinking on your part because in fact, it did not. 

“It is endearing how Y/N is always lost during Potions.” Susan reads off the paper with squinted eyes, mouth furling into a frown of disbelief at the words. 

“Does this person hate me?” You murmur, leaning on your elbows as your eyes run across the aisle of bookshelves in front of you. 

Ernie rocks on the heels of his feet as he hums, “Abysmal flirting. Subpar, one-sided banter. Hardly charming. A Gryffindor, for sure.” 

“Well, the only Gryffindor in both Arithmancy with me and Potions with us is Hermione Granger, and I surely hope she hasn’t turned away from Ron. He’ll be insufferable if so.” You grit out, torn between chasing down your secret “admirer” and putting forth your best effort to ignore their future comments.  

Susan hums at your suggestion with crossed arms, Runes homework long forgotten about, “Surely not. So not a Gryffindor— and really Ernie, you can’t let your heartache blind your judgement! Seriously, are we sticking with the ‘All Gryffindors Are Bad’ thing?” 

Ernie gapes at her words and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Guys, I’m over her, we’ve been through this.” 

You pat your friends arm empathetically, hiding your sly grin as you muse, “Of course you are. Poor Fay Dunbar, really.”

Before your friend can retort, the sound of clicking footsteps attracts your attention as a figure emerges from behind the shelf next to you. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch the familiar Slytherin stroll towards you all with cool eyes, hands shoved in his dress pants as he hums, “Bones. Macmillan.” His eyes drop down to where you’re seated and you see an indecipherable glint cross his gaze as he greets you, “Puppy.”

Your reaction is almost immediate as a hot wave of mortification swallows all your sensibilities, “Excuse me?” Your offended wheeze hardly deters the Slytherin as he merely smirks at you. 

“I think your time would be better spent working through the latest Arithmancy assignment instead of gossiping, no?” He asks with a slanted grin, eyes never trailing away from yours. 

“What’s it to you, Zabini?” Your voice comes out taut as you feel Ernie place a hand on the back of your chair, likely eyeing down the boy in front of you. 

Blaise’s eyes briefly flicker to survey Ernie’s ministrations before they glide back to you in consideration, “Just concerned for a fellow classmate is all. I’ll see you around, Puppy.” Without giving you time to retaliate, the tall Slytherin vanishes just as swiftly as he arrived. 

“The absolute nerve!” You utter with indignation, swiveling your attention over to Susan. The girl frowns in the direction that Blaise disappeared through, eyes glimmering as you could see her brain whirring. 

“Strange. I thought Zabini was one of the tamer Slytherins out of their lot.” Ernie mutters, resuming his position beside you as he rubs his chin. 

You shake your head, “Malfoy’s influence is something to fear for years to come. Zabini may have been pleasant in our youth, but he’s been so shifty to me as of late.” 

Ernie snaps his fingers at your words and snickers down at you, “You used to have the largest love-sick eyes for him.” 

Clicking your tongue, you send a side glance at your friend before looking at Susan as she seems to take in your clueless expression. 

“Seriously?” She huffs, eyebrow drawn up as she gazes at you both like she was staring at a pedestrian display. 

“Seriously what? Suze?” You prod, leaning over as she shakes her head and redirects her attention to her work. 

Ernie shoots you a shrug as he pulls out the chair beside you, reluctantly following the girl’s lead as he sifts through the pile of parchments in front of him. 

The next few days blur by in a similar fashion, except you had taken to avoiding Hogwarts Anonymous like the plague, forcing Ernie and Susan to do the same when you were around. You eventually fell back into your routine of focusing on coursework and your future anxieties, letting the anomalous events slip from your mind. 

It is not until you’re organizing your supplies during Arithmancy that your fragile bubble of peace is disturbed. 

“Puppy.” The dulcet sound of Blaise’s voice has you snapping your head up, boggled by his sudden appearance beside you. The boy usually sat rows behind you, leaving the spot next to you to be occupied by Padma Patil. However, it seemed she was nowhere to be found. 

Suppressing your complaints, you don’t even attempt pleasantries as you sigh, “Zabini, hello.” 

“What’s with the long face? Not happy to see me?” Blaise teases, mouth stretching into a small grin. 

You’re almost tempted to squint as his perfectly white teeth glare at you in all their glory. Fuck. Did he not have a single flaw?

“I’m flattered, but perhaps the only thing I’m unable to do is catch you on a good day.” Blaise’s eyes twinkle with mirth as he smiles softly at you. 

Your face heats up so violently that you’re sure radiators across the globe were turning to you with envy. Forcing your jaw from parting so gauchely, you can only sputter out weakly, “Did I say that out loud?” 

Blaise hums wordlessly as he continues to look at you. Clearing your throat, you turn back to face the front of the classroom as Professor Vector begins to rise from her desk, “Right.” 

The rest of the class seems to tick by like molasses from a tipped jar: incredibly, painstakingly slow. You were usually quite engaged with the lesson and content, but you couldn’t ignore the occasional glances from the Italian boy beside you. 

As you absentmindedly continue to scrawl on your parchment, eyes transfixed on the swirls of ink blooming on the page, you feel something poke your arm. Frowning, you try to ignore it, directing your full attention onto sketching your diagram. 

The light poking persists until you bring your other hand up to swipe at your robe, fingers dancing across a sheet of paper with a slight crinkling noise. Faintly tilting your head, you furrow your eyebrows when you see Blaise attempting to slide a sheet of paper towards you. Slowly grasping the paper, you lay it atop one of your dry parchments, eyes scanning across the leaflet in confusion. 

‘Hogwarts Anonymous. Submission 0128: Y/N L/N is devastatingly oblivious. It really is quite cute.’

You feel your entire body steel up at the words, lips parted from shock as you continue to reread the confession. The nerves across your body seem to buzz wildly as you try and rein in the burning climbing up your chest. 

“Alright, dears! That will be all for today. I expect the next two chapters to be read by our next convening. Ah, and L/N, my dear! I need to speak with you.”  Professor Vector’s euphonic voice cut through your haze of disbelief, drawing your eyes away from the dizzying passage and up towards the heart of the classroom. 

You don’t dare to glance at Blaise as you quickly clamber towards the awaiting woman, weaving around the retreating students that file through the grand doors. Huffing to relieve the pressure in your chest, you peer at the woman in anticipation as you finally step toward her. 

“Sorry to call you up like this, L/N. It’s just that the other professors and I are concerned about the recent articles that are being passed around the student body. It’s come to our attention that these anonymous confessions regarding you are quite prolific.” Professor Vector keeps her voice steady as she gazes at you with warm eyes, evidently trying to gauge your honest opinion on the matter. 

It would appear that everyone knew about your predicament. 

You shake your head quickly, eyes wandering towards the tomes resting on her desk, “It’s quite alright, they’re just small statements. Besides, no one has been giving me a hard time.” Which was partially true, but you also did not want the column to be shut down and run the risk of facing Lavender’s wrath. 

“If you’re quite sure, dear.” 

With a soft nod, you send a small smile towards her before bounding back towards your table, releasing a small breath as you see the rest of the classroom was vacant. As you slung your bag over your shoulder, the call of your name has you twirling on your heel. 

“L/N.” Professor Vector gives you a faint nod, “You’re doing quite well in this class. I’m sure whoever is sending those messages is just teasing you.” 

Clearing your throat, you plaster on a reassuring smile, “Thank you, Professor. Have a good afternoon!” 

You practically sprint out of the classroom, mind set on nipping the blooms of your troubles—starting with the roots. 

The clicking of your shoes against the dusty corridor tiles seem to smother every other inkling of noise, many students shifting from your path with wide-eyes as your gaze darts around furiously. Even the slightest hue of crimson drew your dutiful eyes like a moth to a flame, and you were beginning to get tunnel vision. 

A flash of wispy blonde waves flashes across your plane of sight, and you’re immediately beelining towards the girl, a victorious smile painting your face once you see Lavender’s startled frown. The girl glances from side-to-side as you draw closer, shoulders tensing once you tentatively stop a few paces before her. 

“Lavender, good afternoon.” You greet cordially, fingers lightly brushing against your sides as you become wary of your awkward hand placement.  

The girl nods and shoots you a confused smile, “Hi, Y/N. What’s up?” 

“I think we both know why I’m here.” You mutter frankly, head tilting down emphatically as you take notice of the latest edition of Hogwarts Anonymous in her hands. 

Lavender glances down at the paper and hums, “Ah. Right.” 

Sighing, you readjust the strap of your bag as you step closer, “Look, I’m not here to give you any grief over your work. In fact, Hogwarts Anonymous is probably the most exciting thing to happen all year. But, I need to know the person behind all these messages aimed at me.” 

“I’m sorry, but confidentiality–” Lavender starts, eyebrows stitching together in remorse at your clear disdain over the matter. 

Before the girl can continue her, no doubt, enlightening spiel about the rules of journalism, a velvety voice curls through the air around you, “Hello, Puppy. What seems to be the fuss.” 

You aren’t sure any measure of propriety could have stopped you from raising your eyes to the sky as you slowly spin on your heel. A frown briefly washes over your face as you address the boy behind you, “Zabini. Again with that nickname? It’s getting quite old. Originality doesn’t seem to be your strong suit.” 

“No use in fixing what isn’t broken. Besides, I’ve never known you to be overly concerned with trivialities like this.” The boy retorts, eyes sparkling with blatant amusement. 

You purse your lips at his choice of words before musing, “That’s because you don’t know me, Zabini.” 

Without missing a beat, Blaise is quick to step closer to you, head craning towards you imperceptibly as he lowers his voice, “I suppose you’re right. I could get to know you though.” 

Your lips part at his words, but you try to remain nonchalant as you huff, “Hysterical. And what’s in it for me?” 

“You’d get to know me, too.” 

“As enticing as that sounds, I’ll have to pass.” You mutter, taking a step back from the boy. His eyes remain firm with confidence even as you begin to retreat, your gaze glued to the growing smirk on his face. 

As your nerves finally seem to spark back to life, you swiftly spin around and begin to stomp towards your common room, brain muddled with harping thoughts about the exchange. Before you’re able to round the corner, you hear Lavender’s soft voice bristle through the air, “Maybe try a different approach…” 

A few odd days pass after your encounter with Blaise, and you’ve taken to gluing yourself to Ernie and Susan in hopes that the Slytherin would be too intimidated to approach you again. Your friends take the new developments in stride, only occasionally shooting you knowing glances. 

“Weird.” Ernie hums, fingers drumming against the grass as he peers at the paper in his lap. 

You don’t take your eyes off of the serene lake just yards away as you reply, “What’s weird?” 

Susan pauses in her reading as Ernie straightens up and turns to you, “There aren’t any more anonymous messages about you in the column.” 

“Seems that you missed your chance with your secret admirer, Y/N.” Susan hums, propping her chin on her palm as she smiles teasingly at you. 

You shake your head and wave them both off, “I talked to Lavender the other day, maybe she intentionally left it out. Either way, I look forward to reinhabiting the semblance of peace that I lost.” 

Ernie hums as he diverts his gaze towards something behind you, “Peace might have to wait.” 

“Y/N.” Blaise’s honeyed voice dances through the cool air, accompanied with the soft crunching of grass as you sense the boy approach your lazing figure. 

“Blaise.” You greet evenly, eyes slowly drifting across the tufts of clouds meandering across the sky. 

Susan and Ernie pretend to busy themselves as the Slytherin stops behind you, close enough where the edges of his robe lightly graze against your back. It is quiet for a few moments before the boy addresses you again, “Have you given my offer any further thought?” 

“I can’t say I have.” You mutter, slowly fidgeting with your wand as you add, “Do you want me to?” 

The Italian huffs out a small laugh before you hear a faint rustling, “That’s entirely up to you.” Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but before you can turn around to question him, a crisp envelope drops into your vision. You feel the curtains of Blaise’s robe swim across your back as he offers the tempting object to you. 

Gently grasping the envelope, you flip it in your palm to inspect the front, but you’re met with shallow disappointment when you see the paper is completely blank. On the back, you recognize the Zabini emblem pressed into the bleeding red wax. 

“Blaise, what is this for?” You slowly peer over your shoulder only to be met with Blaise’s retreating back growing farther into the distance. 

Staring at the envelope with a frown, you debate on whether or not to frisbee-launch the paper into the lake as the wind sweeps across your face. Susan is the first to interrupt the calm silence that blanketed the air, shooting you a knowing smile as she points her chin at the stiff paper, “Open it.” 

“Do you know something about this?” You question with narrowed eyes, tone light with jest, but bleeding in genuine confusion. 

“About the envelope? Nope.” She hums with a sweet smile, quickly swiveling her head back to her book. 

You shuffle closer to your friends, shooting them a disbelieving frown, “And about Blaise?” 

Ernie mimes a zipping motion across his mouth as he shakes his head, which is all you need from the boy to know that both of your friends were privy to something you weren’t seeing. Clicking your tongue with exaggerated indignation, you carefully peel the envelope open, noting that neither of your friends were attempting to peer over to see its contents as you did so.

You didn’t know if you were thankful or concerned for that fact. 

Reaching inside the smooth cradle of paper, your fingers run across a folded piece of paper. Pulling it out, you hesitate for a few moments before deciding to bite the bullet. 

Smooth, even swirls of letters dance across the paper in abundance much to your surprise. 

Y/N, 

Lavender advised me that my previous tactic of trying to get your attention was ineffective, so I should therefore be more forthcoming. I hope you understand now. Although it was entertaining watching you fumble about for answers, I realize that time is slowly dwindling as we progress through our last year here at Hogwarts. 

This is not some ploy if you’re wondering (because I know that you are… really, are you Hufflepuffs not supposed to be the most trusting of us all?) 

I have admired you for quite some time. If you are willing to, let’s meet before dinner. I will be at the library. 

Love, 

“Anonymous” 

You drop the letter into your lap as you sigh into the air, neck aching as you roll your head from side to side. Ernie assesses you from the corner of his eye, head tilting at your reaction, “Well?” 

“Well, I’ll have to meet you both at dinner it seems.” You concede with a heavy sigh, realizing that you were the only one who was drowning in the darkness of oblivion for the past few days. 

Susan nods at you with twinkling eyes as Ernie muses with a wide grin, “Sounds like a plan. Good luck!” 

Pacing away from your friends and up the vague incline of grass, you fiddle with the paper in your hands as you begin to dredge up all your encounters with Blaise. They were plentiful in your youth, but between then and the whirlwind of Hogwarts Anonymous— you could count the number of proper conversations you’ve had with the Slytherin on one hand. 

That’s not to say you still didn't find the boy attractive. There was an unspoken consensus amongst the entire student body that he was the prime candidate for bachelor, between his suave demeanor, dry wit, academic prowess, towering trust fund, and neutral political stance— it did not get much better than Blaise fucking Zabini.

For the first time in weeks, you feel that your head is finally clear. An airy aura encircling you as you traverse through the halls, not minding the bustling of younger students or the perpetual miasma of stress that radiated off of your fellow seventh-year peers.  

At the threshold of the bright library, you take a deep breath of consideration before you step in, an intangible veil of warmth immediately ushering you into its cavernous hold as you sift your gaze through the hunched backs and steep shelves. 

Taking slow steps so as to not remain erect in the entrance and cause traffic, you’re snapped from your concentration by the softest tug to your robe sleeve. Dropping your gaze to the chair beside you, you aren’t able to mask your nonplusness at the sight of a familiar Slytherin searching your expression with curiosity. 

“Oh, hi Theodore.” You wave smally, stepping closer as he begins to speak. 

“Y/N. You’re here for Blaise, right?” The boy’s words are barely above a murmur as he slowly shuts the cover of his book. 

You nod and shift to lean against the table as Theodore begins to look around, only dropping your eyes to him once he speaks up again, “He just came in. He might be toward the back, near the Restricted Section. He doesn’t like being around others when he’s restless.” 

“Oh?” Your eyebrows shoot up at the insinuation, unable to truly comprehend a mental picture of the composed Slytherin as anything but smug and assured. 

Humming, you shift your weight from one leg to the other as you dismiss yourself, “Alright. Thank you, Theodore. I’ll see you around.”

The boy merely nods before turning back to his work, but you don’t miss the glimmer that flickers across his eyes as they quickly catch sight of the letter in your hand— it was the same knowing look that your friends held. 

Shuffling towards the back of the library, you slowly feel the confidence draining from your veins as you near the Restricted Section. Rounding one of the shelves, you stop in your tracks as you catch sight of Blaise sitting at a corner table by the window, robe discarded and flung over the adjacent chair as his eyes run across the book in his hand. 

Clearing your throat faintly, you make your way towards him. Before you’re even within reaching distance to him, his head shoots up toward you. 

His eyes swim with confusion for a split moment before they sink into a familiar unreadable look. 

“I read your letter.” You mutter with uncertainty, squaring your shoulders as Blaise nods and rises from his chair. 

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” He softly admits, lips curling up at the sheepish look that replaces your former expression of hesitancy. Before you have time to reply, he steps forward and chuckles, “Couldn’t wait to see me, then?” 

Swallowing harshly, you hum, “You have a bit of explaining to do.” 

“Yeah, I do.” His voice comes out light, shedding away into a near whisper at the end as he gazes at you with consideration. He takes a step forward and continues, “Before that though, I need to know how you feel.” 

“About you?” Your mumble is met with a firm nod, and you feel your heart miss a few beats as the words seem to just glide out of your mouth without filter, “Well, we haven’t spoken properly all that much this year or last year, but I like you… too. I like you, too.” 

“Yeah?” Blaise hums, shoulders faintly drooping as the tension dissipates from his muscles. He reaches his hand out in offering, and you have to give his face another once-over to confirm that it wasn’t an elaborate ruse before you take it. 

He slowly drags you towards him before nudging you to sit in his chair as he smiles, “Well, I’ll apologize for the public messages, it just seemed like the opportune moment when Lavender approached me.” 

“Lavender approached you?” You quietly squawk, not even batting an eye when Blaise crouches in front of you and brings his other hand to clasp yours. 

“My attraction to you is no secret, Y/N. Not that I tried to hide it.” He supplies, eyes full of warmth as you recount all the indecipherable looks you’d received from Blaise’s friends over the months. Honestly, you had merely assumed they were looking for a fight. 

Squeezing the boy’s hands, and ignoring the tingling that buzzed up your wrist from the coolness of his steel rings, you muse, “So… you like me.” 

“Hm.” Blaise hums patiently, assured by your reciprocation of his physical touch. 

“Well, you’re quite the romantic, Zabini.” You can’t fight the lopsided smile that falls on your face. 

Blaise huffs a small laugh as he shakes his head, “I was thinking you’d hold a contrary sentiment.” 

“You better be planning ways to make it up to me, public scrutiny is not enjoyable.” You mutter with a small grin, relishing in the way Blaise shifted at your words. 

He gives your hands a firm squeeze before he straightens up and leans towards you, “There’s no rush anymore.” 

“Who says? I’m fleeing once we graduate.” Your teasing elicits an eye roll from the boy as he shakes his head. 

Leaning over, he grazes his lips over your forehead as he mutters, “Funny, but no can do, you’re stuck with me.” 

His arms encircle you as he continues to drop light pecks to your face, clearly uncaring of the unconventional crane of his spine as he does so. Bringing a hand up, you place it on his cheek before leaning to join your lips together, acutely aware of how his hands tighten around your frame as he leans in impossibly closer to you. 

Pulling back briefly, you smile as an idea balloons in your thoughts, “I’m going to need to find Lavender later.” 

Blaise’s hands draw circles on your waist as he hums, “Why’s that?” 

“I can’t let you have all the fun, now can I? I have the perfect anonymous submission.” You grin brightly, tugging at his tie to draw him closer. 

His eyebrows slowly raise at your words as he leans in, “Yeah?” 

“Yep. How does ‘Blaise Zabini is a terrible flirt and an even worse snog’ sound?” 

Blaise hums and drags you closer to him as a playful glint blazes across his lidded gaze, “It sounds like I’ll have to change your mind before then.” 

“I agree.” You whisper just as his lips sink against yours again, the faint scent of his cologne swirling around you like a blanket as you lean back against the table. 

And when morning rolls around, bringing clear skies and a new column of Hogwarts Anonymous, you can only shrug your shoulders when Susan practically slams the paper against your face in fervid question. 

‘Hogwarts Anonymous. Submission 0283: Blaise Zabini is an alright snog.’

masterlist

[eveningflickr]

you just gotta love james. james and his ability to dramatise every situation into something that's so much more ❤️

cece how abooout the rest of the marauders finding out that you're with poly!wolfstar :c ??? and reader is a potter— james’ twin sister ??

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe your friends would be happy for you, because you knew they would.

Despite the social anomaly of your relationship with both boys, you knew that nobody—at least from the group of people you care about—-would be anything but immensely happy for you. There was always a weird tension between you, Sirius and Remus and, if anything, your relationship solved what you were sure they were expecting to be a very messy love triangle. 

However, the reason you had been keeping your relationship private wasn’t in fear of what they would say, it was because of your brother. 

You loved James. You truly did and you would never change him for the world. Well, you wouldn’t change almost anything about him because if your brother had one flaw, it was his dramatic flare. 

Everything about James Potter was bigger: his ego, his love, his emotional instability the second things changed. You know if he found out his sister was not only dating one of his best friends but both, it would only end in James blowing his top off. 

So, you kept it a secret from everyone. Zero risk of anyone accidentally spilling the beans, and zero risk of your brother weaselling it out of someone. 

To the world, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were happily together. Just the two of them, totally in love and totally not hiding a secret girlfriend. 

You didn’t mind all that much because you loved them, and you liked that they could at least be with each other around others. Plus, the sneaking around wasn’t all that bad—if anything, it was quite hot. 

“Fuck me,” you sighed out, eyes falling shut as you felt his lips travel down the column of your neck. 

“That’s the plan, sweetheart,” Sirius murmured in amusement, his hands sneaking under the hem of your sweater—well, Remus’ sweater you had nicked earlier that week. 

“Do something then,” you huffed out, hands fisted in the material of his shirt that you were promoting him to pull over his head. 

“So impatient,” he mused and you could feel the smug bastard’s smirk against your skin. “Relax, baby, gonna make you feel so—”

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

Your heads snapped to the sides, eyes widened when you saw your brother standing in the doorway. He looked between you and his best friend, a large range of emotions flashing in his eyes as he gaped at the sight in front of him.

“But you—and—wait, how—HOW COULD YOU BOTH DO THIS?” James spluttered out, accusatory finger pointed between you both. 

“James–” you started but he quickly interrupted. 

“He’s my best friend!” James exclaimed.

“Mate–” Sirius opened his mouth but didn’t get very far.

“And she’s my sister!” James continued. 

“I know but—”

“OH MERLIN, WHAT ABOUT MOONY!” James gasped, his face pale as he looked at you both with a face of betrayal. “How could you both do this to him?”

Sirius frowned. “What?” 

“I thought you loved him, Sirius,” James said with a shake of his head. 

“I do,” Sirius said.

“How could you cheat on him with my sister?” James snapped before looking at you, almost looking like a disappointed dad. “And how could you? You knew they were together—”

“James, we can explain,” you sighed, lightly slapping Sirius’ chest as he tried to press his lips together as he pieced together just what James thought.

“This is going to break him,” James sighed sadly, shaking his head.

“Break who?” 

James let out a noise of surprise, whirling around to find Remus standing right behind him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he noticed the flustered state of his friend. His eyes moved to the bed behind him, seeing you and Sirius sat there, both looking more amused and sheepish than anything. 

“What’s going on here?” Remus asked, glancing between you two only to realise neither one of you were going to give him an answer. He then looked at James, eyebrows raised in question.

“Mate, I…look, I don’t…it’s just…” James stuttered out, brows drawn together as he tried to blurt out what he couldn’t quite believe himself either. Sirius, however, finally took pity on the boy and spoke up.

“Prongs caught me snogging his sister,” Sirius said, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face even when you jabbed him lightly in the ribs. 

“Ah, I see,” Remus hummed.

James placed a hand on his shoulder, a strained expression on his face. “It’s okay to cry.” 

Remus bit back his smile. “Why would I cry over my boyfriend and girlfriend snogging?” 

“Because—” James paused, lips parting as he processed what Remus had just said. He blinked. And then he blinked again, yet no words came out of his mouth.

“I think you broke him, Moony,” Sirius mused with a snort.

“Well, he was gonna find out anyways,” you murmured as you stood from the bed, fixing the sweater you were wearing before lightly shoving your brother towards the door. “I’ll talk to him.” 

Sirius pouted. “Boo, we were just having fun.” 

You shot him a look. “Keep yourself entertained, Black.”

“I don’t need to when Moony is here,” he grinned, lying back on the bed with his hands tucked under his head.

Remus snorted. “I have an essay to write.”

“This is just cruel!” 

You shook your head in amusement at your boys before you left the room, dragging James with you who still looked stunned by the whole thing. He had reached halfway down the hall before he finally snapped back to reality.

“YOU STOLE BOTH MY BEST FRIENDS FROM ME?!”

“Merlin, James, stop being so dramatic.”

.

[eveningflickr]

james potter drabbles

james is your clingy boyfriend

james punches a creep for you

james makes you like pda

coming home upset, to a lovely james

going to rugby!james's game

james promises to make more effort. so do you.

you and james get soaked in the snow

james knows you’re upset even when you don’t

james takes care of an eggnog tipsy!you

shy!you interupting james at rugby training

james let’s you know you’re all he thinks about

james kisses you on new year’s eve

drunk!james wants to spend time with you, not his friends

james ties your shoes up in the middle of the street

james takes you to A&E

you prank james

drummer!james teases you offstage

james gets you in his lap

james picks you up drunk and lost

james gives you his sweater

james touches you

james isn't tired of you

rugby!james has early training

james thinks you're gorgeous every day

james cooks you dinner

you embarrassingly hurt yourself

james lets you ramble

james gets sleepy cuddles

firefighter!james thinks you're the hottest

headcanons and thoughts!!

james x cloudgirl!reader

clingy james

picking flowers

taking care of a sore rugbyplayer!james *

james and his hair

rugby!james in the morning *

james in the morning

giving rugbyplayer!james a back massage

james x summer christmas

rugby!james after a game

james and your boobs *

james and kissing you *

summer bf james

soft james

rugby!james x you who hates sport

james looking after drunk!you

pitting on james' glasses

james (+remus) love you

babied rugby!james

dad!james

james and holding hands

james + biting

james (+remus +sirius + cooking for you)

james and your embroided underwear

james (+remus + sirius + fighting over you)

—

james potter kinktober smut

[eveningflickr]

he is such a character, a red flag with the alarms blaring but fortunately for him, i like myself in red ❤️

#15 or #20 with Billy Hargrove..?

20. “Why do you insist on misunderstanding me?”

.

“Hey, sweetheart.” 

“Go away, Hargrove.” 

“Now, that’s not very polite, is it?” 

“Bite me.” 

“Gladly.” 

You didn’t have much patience for most of the students that attended Hawkins High, but Billy Hargrove irked you in a way that none of your other peers did. One bad interaction with him when he first moved to the small town was enough for you to make your decision on the boy, but it also seemed enough for him to decide to make your life a living hell. 

And he did that perfectly well by just being himself—an arrogant, cocky asshole who enjoyed putting others through misery. 

“Can you move?” you asked bluntly, stopping short of your car when you noticed he was  blocking the driver’s seat door, heels crossed and cigarette slipped between his lips as he lounged happily against your car.

“You do something different with your hair?” he asked, completely ignoring your question.

“Why? You gonna insult it?” you retorted. 

“I was actually gonna say it looked good,” Billy replied, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he took a long drag of his cigarette. 

“And then the cow jumped over the moon,” you deadpanned before letting out a heavy sigh. “Can you move now? I don’t have time for this.” 

Billy looked intrigued. “Somewhere to be?”

“None of your business, Hargrove.”

“Entertain me, sweetheart, and maybe I’ll move,” he offered and you knew it was the best you were going to get from him. 

“I have a date,” you said with a sigh, watching as the boy across from you froze. 

Billy stood a little straighter, any amusement in his expression long gone as he threw his cigarette to the ground, grinding it under his boot. “A date, huh?” he hummed, arms crossed over his chest. “With who?”

“You don’t know him,” you said.

“That’s not what I asked, sweetheart,” Billy retorted. “Name. Now.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why do you care, Billy? You hate my guts, you have no right to get jealous.”

“I hate you now, do I?” Billy asked, letting out a laugh that held no humour. “Try again, sweetheart.”

Your brows furrowed together. “You hate me. I know you do.”

“Do you know?”

“Yes, I–” you let out a small, strangled noise. “You always try to piss me off and try to annoy me and—”

“Why do you insist on misunderstanding me?” Billy asked, closing the distance between you until he was standing right in front of you. He raised his hand, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and you stood there gaping. “I don’t hate you, sweetheart. Far from it, really.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Go to your date, sweetheart. But I can promise you that he won’t make you feel half the shit I make you feel.” 

And then he walked away, leaving you baffled and confused about the way his words stirred in your chest.

.

[eveningflickr]

Second Son Navigation | A Regulus Black Series

Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

Warnings: Story is not canon compliant. Includes time jumps. Magic lore is altered/not compliant with canon HP series.

Status: In Progress (Regular Updates)

Main Masterlist

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

[eveningflickr]

Misread Emotions

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Maybe some angst it’s probably not that bad though, fluff, that's it

✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧

Blaise Zabini was a man of few words, many people found him intimidating, and many others at Hogwarts couldn't understand the little things he did to express his emotions. You could though, at least you liked to think that, you would catch how he smiled to himself when one of his friends did something amusing, or the looks of irritation at some of their more unfavourable actions, his way of looking right through people he didn't care for as if they had never existed in the first place, and the look he gave you one of annoyance.

You could never understand what you had done to make him find you so annoying and unapproachable that his opinion of you could never change, but you did remember the first time he had given you that look, it had been in your fourth year Snape along with many of the other professors decided that since there was a competition your school was competing in they should promote inter-house unity, although you believed that Snape was forced to do it. Snape taking his chance to torture his students even more decided to choose our partners for potions for the whole year and he had pit you with Blaise Zabini. When you had first been put with him you were ecstatic, you had been harbouring feelings for the boy but the annoyance that spread across his face the more you talked with him lowered, and lowered your hope of any romance blooming between the two of you.

So now you sat hopelessly staring at him while he sat eating utterly oblivious to your longing stare. However, you couldn't say much as you had tuned out to what your friends had been talking about until one of them shook you much too harshly in your opinion and brought your attention back to your table.

“Are you staring at Zabini again?” Susan questioned, turning to answer her you took in the unimpressed look on her face and changed your answer to one that would not make her lecture you for hours.

“NO, I have completely and utterly forgotten about him. Why should I like someone after what happened.” You remarked, stuffing slices of peach into your mouth to avoid having to talk about this anymore.

“Because you so got over him after that, and didn't get drunk last year and confess your love for him to us during a party.” Susan quipped back, you cringed at the mention of that party, but even more, so that people still remembered the ‘incident’, even though you were the one that brought it up.

The ‘incident’ as everyone had named it was something known throughout the entirety of the housemates in your year as well as quite a few other students in your year and a few above. The ‘incident’ occurred about a month before the yule ball in your 4th year, right around when everybody else started to ask people out to the ball.

It had been a nice day. You remember that the ground was covered in snow but it wasn't too windy and there weren't any clouds so the sun had direct access to the usually freezing halls of Hogwarts. You had planned it out from scouting, or as Susan called it stalking, you figured out what Zabini usually favoured at Honeydukes and found out about a book he had been eyeing up for the past few weeks. And so you were ready to give Zabini his gifts, ask him to the ball where the two of your loves would be cemented forever and he would then ask you to be his partner and you would live happily ever after the end. Well, maybe not all of that but you were at least hoping that he would accept you as a date to the ball. You had tuned into all the gossip in the school to make sure he did not have a date, even going as far as getting the Hogwarts gossip magazine some of the students usually put together. The ball was filled with people and their dates as well as speculated dates to the ball.

Carrying your bag of gifts you looked for him across the courtyard, having seen Draco and his posey walkout there only a few moments ago, finally spotting him walking away from the group you took the chance and made your way over to him.

“Zabini could I speak with you for a moment?” You asked, your fingers fiddling with the ends of the string you used to tie the bag together. The only response he gave you was a silent nod of the head.

I just wanted to give you this and ask if you wanted to go to the Yule ball with me?” You stuttered out, thrusting the bag into his chest and locking your arms at your side once he took the gift from you. You waited for his response until you heard the horrible sound of mocking laughter. Looking up you spotted Draco and his gang walking up to the two of you as he and the rest of them laughed and pointed at you. You looked towards Blaises face to see if he would say anything to defend you or to make fun of you. Instead of being met with laughter by him, you were met with a face full of disgust, it was worse than any rejection you had imagined in your head. He looked down at you with such a horrid facial expression, if it had ended there you would have been fine but no, he dropped the bag you had given him onto the ground for the contents to spill out onto the snow-covered ground.

“Oh Blaise don’t be cruel, it’s obvious that they are madly in love with you.” Pansy mocked in her usual high and annoyingly squeaky voice.

“She’s right you know Zabini, you really shouldn't be cruel your admirer at least had the idea to corner you alone.” Draco jested, as he walked over to wrap an arm around Zabinis shoulders and peek at what you had gotten his friend, only to shriek in delight when he realised that you must have put great detail into finding out what his friend enjoyed.

“Why are you still here?” You heard a cold voice ask, looking up Blaise's face of disgust looked down at you and with that, you turned on your heel and took off back to the Hufflepuff common room where you could cry to the comfort of your friends.

But even as you ran from them you could still hear the jests and taunts that the Syltherins threw at you, you really should have listened to your friends.

Shaking your head you tried to push the memory back into the locked box in your brain that it was usually located in and tune back into what your friends were doing, only to realise that they had gotten up and were grabbing their bags to go.

“Where are you guys going?” You asked curiously as usually, they would stay the entirety of lunch and rarely ever wanted to leave, though you felt pretty silly when they looked at you as if you had just forgotten the most essential thing in the world.

“We have potions now, and you know how long it takes to get to the dungeons,” Susan answered, shaking her head as she muttered curses at you, realising yes it was time to go, you shot up from your spot at the table, careful not to spill any food on your uniform and grabbed your bag to head to potions with your friends.

Entering the potion classroom you slipped into your seat doing your best to avoid the gaze of your teacher at any of the students you had arrived late to the classroom. Slughorn takes the same wanting of inter-house unity as Snape had done two years ago, although with a much smaller group.

The stool next to you was pulled out from under the desk causing you to tense up at the presence that had now joined you at your table. You could feel his eyes boring holes into your skull as you pulled out a quill and some parchment, pausing when Slughorn called you all to gather around his desk to be introduced to the potion that you would all begin to start brewing.

Slughorn introduced the potion that you would be brewing: Amortencia, a powerful love potion. Deciding to show one of the potions many interesting natures he called each student up to come and smell the potion. You fiddled with a fraying edge on your robe as you waited for Slughorn to call you up, the anticipation slowly eating away at your nerves. You knew what you were going to smell, or more likely who you were going to smell, you just really didn't want to have to admit that to your friends who would inevitably ask once class was over.

Finally, after what felt like hours, probably only a couple of minutes, you were called to the front of the class. Leaning over the cauldron you were jit with the smell of earl grey tea, expensive cologne, old inks, and the yellowing pages of the books in the library. All smell’s you would associate with Blaise Zabini.

Moving back to your spot with the rest of your class you kept your head right at the board to avoid the wanting stares your friends were casting at you. Although looking straight ahead also gave you the view right across the caldron holding the potion, giving you perfect sight of each student's face as they each went to smell it, and just your luck the person right across from you now was Blaise Zabini. Watching him as he shifted his body forward wafting the scent of the potion up. After a moment his eyes flickered up and you could have sworn that he smirked just slightly when your eyes met. But just as quickly as you saw it disappeared and he went back to his spot at the back of his class with the rest of Dracos posey.

The rest of the class went by relatively quickly, with what you can only describe as an aggressive amount of teasing grins and knowing looks thrown your way. But along with your friends being obnoxious, you could say that the accidental bumps of your and Zabini’s hands happened more than what would usually happen. You could also say that there was more lingering gaze coming from the boy beside you, you really couldn't have this happen it would only give you false hope.

And just as you thought once you had arrived in the common room you were swarmed by your friends with a million questions about what you had smelled, or should you say who you smelled.

“Come on (Insert Name), you have got to tell us.” Susan chided as she rocked you back and forth trying to convince you to tell her who it was.

“Well, I did smell some expensive cologne, old ink, and old books.” You answered back being careful with what you said to not give away who exactly it could be, although knowing your friends and what they knew of you it couldn't be more obvious.

“That's just things you would use to describe Blaise, honestly you keep saying you got over him but it is so obvious that you're still head over heels for him. Just admit that you like him, even though he’s a total jerk and doesn't deserve you, the heart is an uncontrollable force.” Susan spoke, wrapping you in a warm embrace as she cuddled up to you on the couch so you wouldn't have to wallow in pity on your own.

Moving on from that day you noticed a significant shift in Blasises actions, in the great hall during meals you made more eye contact with him and he seemed to hold it for longer, in hallways or crowds it seemed like he would look for you in them always being able to find your eyes, it was even more extreme the accidental bumping of your hands happened even more and it seemed like his hand would linger each time. 

It all concluded when you felt someone bump into your back looking at who it was, you saw Zabini walking away from you. Just as you were about to call out to him you felt something in your hand, not understanding how you hadn't felt it there before you opened your hand to find a neatly folded piece of paper.

‘I’m sorry, meet me by the lake at midnight sharp.’ the note read out in handwriting that was oddly familiar to you.

And so for the rest of the day, you waited anxiously for 12 to roll around, and when it finally did you threw on your sweater and snuck out of your dorm careful not to wake any of your roommates who would insist on coming with you so that nothing bad happens to you.

Slipping into the corridor waited to hear any footsteps before you carried on, hurrying through the passages out to the lake where you saw a figure standing, the moonlight reflecting off the lake and onto them creating a halo around them.

Standing in front of the figure you were met with the face you had memorized so many times, the face that made your heart swell and the very face that shattered your heart into a million pieces.

“Zabini what are you doing here?” You asked shifting on your feet as you stated out at the lake refusing to meet his eyes.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened that day, I shouldn't have acted like that. I was flustered and I got nervous. No one I have ever liked has confessed to me like that.” He answered reaching out and grabbing your hand. Looking at his face it was filled with a softness you had never seen directed at you, a softness that you had never seen ever.

“I know that's not an excuse for what I said but I would like to start over, I want to be something with you, anything, please.” He continued his grip on your hand tightening.

“I think we could be something.” You said laughing up at him.

“Oh and I loved the book, thank you.” He said softly as the two of you leaned in meeting each other as the moon danced across the water.

[eveningflickr]

Shot in the Dark || Blaise Zabini × GN!Muggleborn!Reader

Summary: Blaise can’t help his feeling for you, a muggle, but you know it could never work between you two.

Warning(s): mentions of war I think that's abt it

Word-count: 1.3k

The moon served as a light to blanket the night with its dim glow, illuminating the aged stone of the castle. A small gust of autumn wind and the soft steps of two pairs of shoes echoed through the halls. Paired with small fits of laughter and a hushed exchange of words. Who knew that one drunken night would bring two unlikely forces together. Which only led to stolen glances and smitten smiles.

"Are you ever going to tell me where we're going, Blaise?" Y/n asked, their tone full of playfulness; all the while, their vision was intercepted by the green and silver printed tie. 

"Do people always ask so many questions in the muggle world?" He replied, guiding them among the steps of the astronomy tower. 

"Only when a strange man is leading them somewhere blindfolded." 

Y/n bared a smile, and although Blaise couldn't see the sight, his heart yearned. Soon feeling one creep onto his face as well. Once at the top of the stairs, Blaise strode behind Y/n; gently tucking at the knot, he said, "Open your eyes." His voice was delicate. 

Y/n followed the command and was greeted with the sight of the astronomy tower. Although now, candles were sprawled across the room. The candle flames and moonlight highlighted Y/n's features. In the middle of the room lay a bundle of blankets and pillows.   

"You did this all for me?" Y/n circled around the room. A million thoughts raced through their head. Wondering how one person can care so much. They only partially understood the amount of devotion you can feel. How one can come to be so vulnerable in such dark times. 

"I had some help." 

Y/n met their gaze, slowly moving towards him. All he could do was stand and wait. Admiring the beauty of the sight. Much as he admired every key detail about Y/n. He wasn't sure how it was possible. To look at someone and only see the future you'd hope to live with them. Wanting to be the first thing they see in the morning and the last at night. Y/n then filled the space between them. Their eyes scanned over his features as if trying to remember every little attribute. 

"You're staring." Said Y/n just above a whisper. Their eyes wandered over his face to land on his lips. 

"So are you." 

Their eyes met, and Y/n could have sworn it felt like two pieces were finally coming together. Deep down, they knew the pieces would only allude to fitting. Yet every fiber in their being wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against theirs. Release the years of passion and yearning trapped within them. But that wasn't possible. So they pulled away. Y/n turned their back to the Slytherin, forcing a smile, they said, 

"Watch the stars with me, Blaise." Within seconds they sat on the make-shift pallette. Their legs crisscrossed, and their hands folded in their lap.

"As you wish." He instantly moved his feet. Taking a spot next to Y/n. His mind still trying to decipher the meaning of what had just happened. 

Y/n's eyes had fled to the night sky. Taking up the impossible task and counting the stars. Silence filled the air. Neither was able to discover the cure to end it. Minutes passed by, only to feel like hours. And out of the corner of their eye, Y/n saw Blaise's view glued to them. As a result, they let out a laugh. Genuine, sincere laughter, Blaise's favorite sound in the entire world. He always took pride in being the reason they laughed so. Like it was his only purpose. 

"What?" He asked, following suit.

"You're staring again, Blaise." After the first word, Blaise knew there was a difference in how they spoke. Y/n's words felt alive and present at the moment. 

"What? I'm not allowed to look at you?"

"Not like that." Y/n's eyes were still attached to the darkness. 

"Like what?" 

Moments hesitation pulled Y/n out of the temporary bliss. They needed to remember what was to come. With a deep breath, Y/n tilted their head. Looking at the man next to them. Truly seeing him for the first time. Every hope and dream. Every fear and flaw. The very things they grew to adore about Blaise Zabini. Y/n began once more. 

"Like you want to kiss me."

"You used to let me look at you like that." 

"Then what changed?" 

"You did." 

A small smile began to form. Another wall was put up, another excuse to let, whatever this may be, fall. Y/n turned back to the night's vastness. Their expression was unreadable as they searched for an answer. A hint or a clue to tell them what the next step is. What the right step is. When none was found, Y/n's eyes fell. They had been fidgeting the entire time; how had they not realized? 

"How do you that. That thing that you do?" Y/n asked. Their voice was flat and hopes defeated. 

"How do I do what?" 

"How do you always find the way to be so full of hope." 

"It's one of my many talents." 

Another laugh. Leaving as quickly as it came. 

"Blaise, what are we doing?"

His features morphed into something unfamiliar. One of deep-rooted pain and confusion.

"Are we not doing what any other couple would do?" 

"We're not... I have to go. This was a mistake." They quickly get to their feet. They shake their head as though this is all some dream they're trying to wake up from. 

"What? Wait, Y/n, stop." 

Blaise gets up to grap Y/n's hand. When he takes hold of it, he's reminded of how perfectly it fits in his. His touch pleaded for them to stay. Y/n's eyes wandered over to where their hands met. Yanking it away, freeing themself from Blaise's touch. Meeting him with resistance.

"So what? You're just going to walk away? You're just going to give up on us?" His words trembling with anger. With fear and disbelief. 

A thick uncomfortable silence takes over. Whatever the intended mood was for the night was drowned out. 

"There was no us, Blaise. There could never be an us." 

"Why." 

"You know why." 

He searched their expression. Looking for a crack in the foundation, a path in. Only to find Y/n had fortified every wall. He had no way of telling what thoughts fled through their mind. No way of telling if this was all a sick joke or a nightmare he had yet to wake from. All he knew was that his heart was breaking a million times over. 

"I love you." His words were desperate for a response. 

"No... no, you don't." 

"I love you, Y/n, I do."

"Blaise, stop. You don't mean that. 

"I mean every word... I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it drives me crazy to not be near you. I love you so much that I'd do anything for you. And I know that you love me too. I can feel it. So please, Y/n, just tell me what you want from me. Tell me why we can't be together."  

"Fine." They look up at Blaise with all remaining strength. Tears frantic spill, and their voice is cold as stone. 

"There is a war coming, Blaise. I am a muggle-born. I am risking my life every moment I am near you, every word we exchange. I'm putting my parents' lives in danger. You were right... I do love you. But at least I have the common sense to admit what we're doing is wrong. And if you love me like you claim you do, you'll have enough self-decency to admit it too."

Their words were abrasive, cutting him like a knife. Y/n forcefully wiped the tears running down. Wiping their nose with the back of their hand. The struggle to return to a composed state was unbearable, with each step taking them further from the tower. For a second, but only for a second, Y/n felt nothing but regret. Regret for the moments they shared, the ones that will never fade and won't happen again. Regret for the future they had spent hours upon hours discussing, wrapped safely in each other's arms. But mainly regret for not being brave enough to stay.  

[eveningflickr]

You Want Me Anyway | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley wasn't your boyfriend. He didn't owe you anything. But after months of hooking up, you expected more from him than what you were getting. It was time for you to move on. But Bradley has other ideas.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 1500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Sensational Smutfest! Check out my masterlist for more!

You and Bradley were by no means official. But you had been hoping you were at least exclusive. For months you had been trying to have the conversation with him, trying to define the relationship, but he just brushed you off. 

And now you knew why. Because tonight at the bar while you were surrounded by your friends, you were forced to watch Bradley flirt with some girl in a mini skirt who boldly bought him a beer and had her hand planted on his chest. He was eating it up, leaving you to silently stew in your anger, because nobody even knew he spent most nights tangled up in bed with you. This girl was laughing hysterically at everything he was saying, and you'd simply had enough. 

It was time you forgot about Rooster Bradshaw. You didn't need to keep letting him string you along with his vague answers and half truths. There was no way you'd let him think you needed his attention exclusively if he was going to spread his around. 

Recently you found that Hangman was good for a few things: the occasional laugh, keeping you on your toes in the air, and tons of flirtation. 

"Hey, Hangman. Teach me how to play darts," you called out to him, and a second later he was guiding you toward the dartboard with his arm draped across your shoulders.

"I thought you'd never ask, Sweetness," he drawled, his lips close to your ear. "You're about to learn from the best."

You couldn't help but laugh at how cocky he was. "Is that so?"

"You thought I was only good in the air? I'm good everywhere. Here, stand like this," he told you, guiding you into place with his hands on your hips. Soon you were throwing darts with his help, nearly hitting the bullseye a few times. "You're a natural," he whispered, letting his hand glide up to rest on your shoulder. "You want a drink?"

"Please," you told him, and when he went to the bar, your eyes caught on Bradley. His cheeks were beet red, and he looked fuming mad.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked when he approached. His voice was low and harsh as he got in your personal space.

You shrugged. "Just hanging out with Jake."

Bradley scoffed. "Okay, well Jake can just keep his hands off you!"

"Why should he?" you asked, keeping your expression completely neutral. 

Bradley's eyes narrowed to slits. "Because you're with me."

You laughed in his face. "Really? I had no idea. You seem to like flirting with other girls more than talking about-" His mouth met yours in a rough kiss. Right in the middle of the Hard Deck. 

"No, you're with me," he growled again, gripping the back of your neck and kissing your lips and your jaw and your ear. "Say good night to Jake. I'm taking you home."

But you didn't say good night to anyone. You just tripped along next to Bradley as he guided you toward the exit. "What's gotten into you?" you asked him once you were outside. 

But he didn't answer you. In fact, he didn't say anything as he picked you up and carried you to his Bronco and drove to his house while you complained the whole way. "This is ridiculous. You can't just suddenly decide that you're in charge of what I do!" 

But you were just met with more silence.

"Bradley," you finally said, caving and talking first once you were in his bedroom. 

He took your chin between his thumb and index finger, tipping your face up to look at him. He kissed your lips softly, brushing his mustache across your skin. "You're mine. Don't flirt with Jake. Don't flirt with anyone. You're with me."

You moaned at his words. "And just what do you think you were doing tonight, Bradley? You don't get to have a different set of rules for yourself."

He kissed you again. "I won't. Not again. Now get in bed, and spread your legs wide."

You watched his brown eyes flash with something exciting as you peeled your clothes off and climbed in his bed. But you quickly learned that what he had in mind wasn't going to be as pleasant as you originally thought. 

At first, his mouth on your pussy felt amazing. His tongue felt possessive, like he was claiming you. But then when you were so close to the edge, he stopped cold and eased away from your body.

"What happened?" you gasped, panting as a sheen of sweat crept along your neck and chest.

"Say my name." His voice was harsh, and you clenched around nothing.

"B-Bradley."

"Louder."

"Bradley! Please, Bradley!"

Then his fingers were inside you and his lips were on your breasts, and you ran your hands up and down his neck. He was being possessive, and you loved it. This is what your body was craving from him. But just when you were close again, he released you. 

"Fuck!" you gasped.

"Say it."

You swallowed hard, head tipped back in frustration as tears filled your eyes. "I'm yours, Bradley!"

Then he was filling you with his dick, and you felt perfect for a few moments as he pinned your hips down and moved so slowly. You could feel everything, each tiny thrust and every twitch of his cock. But he was making sure you knew he was in control, because he never went faster. He worked you up until you were a panting, gasping mess beneath him. Every vein in his neck was on display, and you wanted to cum so badly. Your legs were shaking, back arching off the bed as he stroked your sweet spot with expertise. 

 But as he brought you to the edge again, he seemed to reluctantly pull out. Then he growled, "Don't even think about cumming yet," next to your ear, and you cried out in frustration as he rubbed his tip across your clit. You watched him straddle your thighs as he smirked down at you, and he grabbed his cock while you gasped for air.

You watched him jerk off as you bit your knuckle in frustration, thrusting yourself up against him to try to get some more friction against your clit. Within a minute, Bradley was coating your pussy, belly and chest with his cum. Marking you. Then he dipped his fingers in the mess and held it up to your lips. He fed you his cum while you whined and begged him. "Please?" you gasped, after cleaning his fingers for the fourth time and rubbing yourself against his balls.

He pressed his lips to your ear as he dipped his sticky fingers in your mouth one more time. "You think Jake can take care of you like I can? You think anyone else can?"

You shook your head and mumbled, "No," around his fingers. 

"That's right. Now who's about to make you cum?"

"Bradley!"

Finally he removed his fingers from your mouth and eased them through his cum and down to your pussy. He fucked you with his fingers and teased you with his tongue until you were hiccuping with relief as your orgasm quickly washed over you. 

"That's my good girl," he crooned, running his mustache through your wetness and pressing his nose to your clit while your body shook for him. "So good. Don't forget who you're with now." He kept stimulating you until you had some tears falling from your eyes, but his lips were so gentle now as he worshipped your pussy.

You started to sit up as you whispered his name, and Bradley's eyes were on yours. He kissed you, and you moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips and mustache. He eased you back again, the mess of his drying cum rubbing between your bodies as you held him close.

"What made you change your mind all of a sudden?" you asked as his lips migrated to your jaw. 

"I didn't change my mind all of a sudden. I've wanted to be exclusive for weeks, and start calling you my girlfriend."

Your eyes drifted closed at the word girlfriend uttered in his raspy voice. "Then why were you flirting with that girl? And avoiding my conversations?" you asked, taking his face between your hands.

He looked at you with his big, brown eyes and smiled. "Because I know you're too good for me, but I want you anyway."

You bit your lip and smiled at the ceiling. "I'm way too good for you."

"But you want me anyway," he supplied, making you giggle as he kissed your ear. Then he scooped you up and headed for the bathroom while he asked you to start referring to him as your boyfriend. "I made a mess, and I'll clean it up."  

You weren't sure if he was talking about coating you in his cum or talking about your relationship, but either way, he was going to take care of it.

---------------------

Thanks for reading this blurb that turned into a one-shot.

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[eveningflickr]

✮ : NAVIGATION

𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡 (lizzie) / 20 + pisces. asian. multifandom ♡

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𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫. mcu. the maze runner. top gun 1986 | top gun: maverick. 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂 : chelsea, fc barcelona, liverpool, bayern munich + formula one : mercedes amg, scuderria ferrari, pierre gasly, daniel ricciardo + nba : golden state warriors

© eveningflickr 2023 : reading / reblogging account ♡

[eveningflickr]

i've read this in my other blog account but i'm rereading not because i want to hurt myself early in the morning but because this is just honestly so beautifully written despite the ending :’( i’m just glad they're together in afterlife their death broke my heart omfg

will you marry me?

5 times remus has asked you to marry him and 1 extra.

tags: remus lupin x f!reader,, fluff,, angst,, no mention of the word y/n,, childhood friends to lovers,, mutual pining,, character death

first time at 5 years old;

your eldest sister was off to marry in spring and so naturally the whole house was buzzing with excitement and terror. and you, like any impressionable child, felt the tingles of something exciting happening before your very eyes.

lulu, your best ultimate mate as you so graciously dubbed him, felt this energy too.

or at least the many flowers and coloured envelopes scattered on the table, seem to ring some alarms for him.

“this table is too small,” he frowns, stopping his pretend chopping of the leaves, and looking longingly at the dinner table, filled with scattered wedding paraphernalia.

you shrugged, ponytail swishing as you move around him.

“we have to make room, my sister is to be mary.” you confidently repeated what your mum said to you in the morning. when you had whined at the lack of play space.

now you’re humming like it’s obvious, why you were given a child’s table and now have to play kitchen with one pot instead of four because of the lack of space. the confident pretence of a child to show they’re mature enough not to complain.

“why does she have to be mary?” he asks, his shoulder bumping into you, “i thought she likes her name hilda?”

you scoff, clearly lulu does not know of the way of being mary. so naturally, you being older (by a few months) needs to teach him. or else, however is he going to be a proper grown up?

“because she wants to be a wife. so she has to be mary first.”

“a wife?” he asks intrigued, “like mummy and daddy?”

you laugh, patting his head, “only mummies can be a wife, silly. daddies are hus-butts.” you stood straighter, having this conversation with your mum before. “mother says, you have to love first and then be a mary. so you can play with them even after dinner and eat chocolates and make children.”

he seems to perk up even more, looking at you. his eyes as usual, gleaming with obvious awe, “to make children? with what?”

you pout, having no answer.

you haven’t asked your mum this question yet. too busy thinking of how many mary’s there are in your town.

still, you try to think of an answer.

you don’t want to let lulu down, you are after all his only hope for knowing things.

luckily, you’ve overheard this one conversation last week, your sister moving after she becomes mary so they can begin making a family.

you raise your head, hand on your hip and your other pointed as if in a lecture.

you said in your most confident voice. “you enter specific rooms in the house, and always make sure it’s locked. and then you wait until you can come out with children. but you must only do this if you love them. that is the ultimate rule. or else it won’t work.”

“wow,” he breathed, he clenched his fists then, looking utmost determined. before screaming in glee and confidence, the only way a naive child could. “then let’s make children! be mary and then we can play all night!”

you clicked your tongue, disappointed he hadn’t comprehended. “but you should love me first.”

his cheeks heated pink, indignant, “but i do. i love you a whole lot! and i wanna play here all the time.”

you shook your head, grim. “we can’t.” sounding so heartbroken, as much as any five year old could sound.

because you’ve already asked your mum if you could make children with lulu and she said, you’re only suppose to do that if you’re a grown up in love.

you asked, what’s the difference? you were plenty grown. 5 is one hand after all.

and your sister said to you, amusement lacing her words, a grown up to take care of you and cherish you. someone able to help you and grow with you.

you look at lulu. his thin arms and his lack of knowledge.

certainly not a grown up. not a proper man who can be with you, at all.

“i don’t love you, so we can’t.” you say this huffing, now turning completely to your make shift pot and stirring the water and leaves.

lulu cried loud that day, wailing like a little kid.

and nodding to yourself knowing you’ve made the right choice. he is so not a grown up. even if his pinched face made you feel queasy.

your mum rushing over and asking what was wrong. when you told her, she laughed out loud, and hugged you both, brushing remus’ hair out of his tear streaked face.

and you wonder what was so funny when he looked so sad.

second time at 11 years old;

remy was horrified.

you realize this as he stares at you in a crazed panic. and as always, it was up to you to be strong.

“what do you mean by that?” puffing your chest out and stood to cover remy from potter.

“didn’t you know? kissing makes girls pregnant.” he whispered, loudly in the empty halls, scandalized as he went to look at your stomach as if it will inflate this instant.

you fight the urge to cover that area with your robes. willing yourself to be brave for the both of you.

“surely… that isn’t true.”

potter scoffs, offended to have been doubted, “yes it is, i heard a prefect say so.”

you feel remy grab the back of your robes in panic. the reference enough to persuade him. you almost roll your eyes, but instead sighed to calm yourself down.

“i ought to tell you lot to be careful.” potter looked at the both of you meaningfully, and inhaling sharply as a flash of embarrassment burns into your brain.

you weren’t able to will the heat of your cheeks to dissipate, before it showed on your cheeks. your face and neck warmed red. mortified that potter knows the secret kiss shared between you and your friend, currently pulling at your robes.

it was both of your first kiss, deciding to just get it all over with, so you both can know what was so special about it.

it wasn’t much.

it felt soft, and quick.

nothing at all sparkling or romantic, like others said.

“alert your parents immediately, else you might be kicked out. and i’ve grown quite fond of the two of you, you know.” potter nodded at you, looking as if he pitied you both before crossing his arms as he strutted away.

you look at remy fully now. he was standing too close and still holding unto your robes like a lifeline.

“did you really have to tell potter of all people what we did?” you scoff, crossing your arms and tapping your feet like how your mother used to do it when she was cross with something.

he seemed to shrink into himself more, “i’m sorry, he said he saw it, and pestered me into confessing.” he bit his lips to bleed. “i didn’t know you were gonna be in trouble.” he sniffled.

and you immediately cooled, reaching forward and pulling at his chin to stop his assault and softly rubbing at his bleeding lips with your robes with another click of your tongue.

“it’s fine, he already saw, nothing else we can do.”

“so, what are we going to do now?” he asked softly, he looked at you, eyes filling with worry and sadness. “what if you are? we’ll get in trouble, won’t we?”

you bring down your arm now, before breathing out deeply.

you try to think of why it wouldn’t be true, but the tone of his voice was making you worry endlessly too.

even though you know it wasn’t all true, because you’re sister kissed her husband plenty of times in the house and they don’t have kids.

and you were about to point that out to him. to reassure your ever warm, too soft friend, that james potter was full of it and to relax.

but remy stood straighter, his cold hands gripping yours tightly, so much that it hurts. now standing a bit taller than you. pinks lips pulled into a straight line and eyes looking straight at you. softs browns no longer holding any worry, instead with resolute determination.

“marry me,” he said, “i promise to look after our children and work.” he nodded at you, as if urging you to say yes. to trust him.

a look entirely different from what you remembered from way before, yet feeling all the same regardless.

the reason of proposal was ridiculous in of itself that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“i’m not pregnant you dolt, pregnancy doesn’t work that way. i assure you.” rolling your eyes in amusement. “so don’t you go proposing like some weirdo.”

he stopped for a second, as if startled as he kept looking at you. before leaving a shaky sigh, head hanging low.

“okay,” his lips in a wobbly smile, looking weird. “good.”

third time at 17 years old;

sirius had managed to sneak in a case of firewhisky in one winning after-party in the common room.

it was safe to assume that everyone was positively sloshed. if judging from the slurring exclaims from james and a red face peter barely able to stand and sirius laughing maniacally at something marlene has said to him.

and remus being the self-appointed responsible one, had taken it upon himself to maintain sobriety the entire night. to look after the three of them in the aftermath.

resolutely sitting next to you the whole night, engaging in a missed conversation about gossip and literature.

“still feeling confident you can handle these three blokes up in your room?”

he grimaced, already rubbing his temples, probably from regret and the james’ incessant off-key singing. “i don’t really have much of a choice now, do i?”

you laugh easy, “with the way james is attempting to strip, i think not. and you did volunteer, taking responsibility and what not.”

he sighed rather audibly, over the soft music of the party that was already dying down. most of the attendees already settling into their respective rooms.

and you look at remus, slumped into the chair, and laugh to yourself.

still so helpless, you think. you guess you had to step up again. pick up the slack a little bit.

you try to trick yourself into thinking you were tired and miffed about it, but you find you quite like feeling needed. especially by remus.

whom of which seems to be way into being responsible now and being a proper grown up. one that follows curfew and plans his day.

he barely looks at you for help anymore.

he always has an answer to questions now.

as the boys depend on him for being the responsible one in their little foursome.

off to late night adventures and pranks. no longer the crying, awe struck, nervous kid you grew up knowing. makes you feel kind of sad.

“alright then,” you exhaled, “i’ll lend you a hand for dealing with the demons.” you stood up whilst downing your drink, a sweet concoction by dorcas.

he looks up at you, eyes looking bloodshot and tired. he softly shook his head, “you don’t have to.”

you frown, clicking your tongue and placing a hand on each of your hips. “i said i’ll do it, so i’m going to. now stand up and let’s go.”

he looked at you just a second longer and sighs looking away, a soft smile etched on lips before looking at you again. looking won over.

standing up, dusting the invisible dirt on his trousers and nodding.

he towers over you now, seemingly out of no where.

you realize this as your neck strain looking up at him. as you gather the rowdy, intoxicated boys back to the dorms.

something sirius was extremely grateful for and the others echoed.

“thanks for— for taking care of me darling,” sirius breathed hot into your face before pecking you on the cheek.

“yes, you’re very welcome,” you hummed amused, tucking his covers into his sides, making sure he couldn’t move out of bed.

sirius giggles, “it feels like being tucked in by a mum,” before looking at you serious, eyes wide and looking more sober than he actually was, as if realizing something.

“you’re the mum in the group!” he exclaimed.

“im the what?”

james overhears this and exclaims his agreements.

“oh you are! you’re the perfect mum size!” james said.

you turn to him, “and what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask hotly.

“you’re very caring and mum-like, and you scold like a mum too, sometimes you even talk like one,” peter mumbled.

you look at remus, giving you an amused look, lips stretching like close to laughing.

“this is going to be the last time i’m helping you lot, if you call me mum one more time.” you threatened lightly.

sirius hums loud like he doesn’t believe you, “it’s not all bad, not like you’re gonna be a single-mum. remus is gonna be the dad after all.” he said like he was so sure.

and james, of ourse, echoed his agreements.

“obviously,” james tutted from his bed, tucked in tight by remus.

“yesh,” peter slurred, “he looks like—remus looks like he knows how to read maps.” he breathes out, like on a verge of sleeping.

james gasps, “he does! remus is a map reading dad, nothing has made more sense than this moment right here. you are meant to hold a map in your hands remus, you’re a daddy compass.”

remus looks perturbed, eyebrows scrunched and lips into a tight frown. he shakes his head then, before closing each of their curtains, not even bothering to justify james’ quip. “night lads,”

“night dad,” sirius teased from his bed, before shuddering excessively, “never thought i’d say that again.”

you snort out a laugh before you could help it. “good night everyone.”

you look at remus, and see him gesture to come outside.

quietly walking out of their room and closing the door behind you.

“come, i’ll walk you out.” grabbing your hand softly and pulling you down the corridor to the stairs. dropping his hold just as quick as if he hadn’t meant to hold it in the first place.

“sorry about the lads, the lack of filter is unfortunately not the effect of alcohol but is just them naturally.”

you chuckle softly, rubbing your tingling palms on the side of your skirt.

as if you didn’t know that already. those three have already been a staple into your everyday life for majority of the year. they, quite frankly, grow on you like some persistent vine on a house.

“it’s fine, it was quite tame compared to the usual rubbish they spew most of the time.”

remus looks at you, barely able to hide the smirk emerging from his lips.

“don’t tell me you liked them calling you mum?” the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to miss.

you lightly push on his shoulders. “don’t be disgusting, being called their mum is weird enough. and you implying i like it just makes it even weirder.”

“well imagine being called daddy compass by one of your mates, it’s gonna be hard looking at james tomorrow morning i’ll tell you that.”

you laugh excessively loud at this, before covering your mouth sheepish as you remember the time.

you look over at him, up and down as if assessing, “but you do look like a dad who knows how to read maps. wears khakis all the time and has a moustache.”

he rolls his eyes at you, as you grin in mirth, “well does that mean you’ll do me the honours of marrying me to avoid the life of a single parent to three demon boys?”

you laugh, shaking your head, “not exactly selling your case to me, are you?”

“won’t you reconsider though?” he moans, like he’s pained but you see the glint in his eyes even in the dark dorm room stairs. “it is after all for the children.”

you know he’s joking, hardly a night of partying counts as anything like a proper proposal.

but your brain can’t help but supply the thought that he looked quite fuller now. arms looking sturdier, and harder. he is acting more responsibly, all the professors trust him.

he was almost like a proper grown up now.

and you remember the echo of the ultimate rule in your childhood.

you shake your head, and an easy smile spread on your lips. stopping at the stairs for your dorms, “over my dead body,”

and he laughs, the sound echoing in the trashed common room, “well alright, good night, beautiful.”

“good night remus.”

fourth time at 19 years old;

you knew james was serious about lily when you lot had graduated from hogwarts. but you didn’t know the extent of the seriousness until he said this after one of the order meetings.

“i’m going to ask lily to marry me.”

james had said this with such conviction, so sure and full of affection. you can’t help but feel awed.

he suddenly seemed mature. not like the doofus you’ve come to know and consider a confidant through these trying times.

but a proper adult, one who does taxes and knows how to set up an appointment for medical check ups and fights in wars.

james suddenly feeling very far away from you.

you feel remus shift, his leg pressing into yours. you look at him to see what he wanted, but saw he was just looking at james, eyes set hard.

you shook yourself out of your stupor. standing up abruptly, not meaning to leave the familiar press of remus’ leg against your thigh.

“that’s—that’s great news james, i would have never guessed you—oh you’re all grown up!” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and him wrapping his around your middle with a giddy smile.

“thank you, mum.” he laughs, the on going joke still running strong. you squeeze him extra tight and pinching his arm for extra measure. before pulling away. “i never thought you had it in you to propose. i’d have half a mind to propose to lily on your behalf.”

he laughs, a bashful blush resting on his cheeks. “i figured, why wait, you know? tomorrow isn’t promised, and—i think spending every moment together is we all can do. i don’t want to die with regrets. i love her.”

you breathed in deep.

sirius coming forward too and slapping james in the back before giving his own congratulations and then peter and then remus too.

you were happy for them both, truly, having found one another even in these difficult times was awe-inspiring.

and then you start to wretchedly wonder if you could have that too. if only the circumstances were a bit different. would you have been given enough time to find another? enough to love? enough to marry?

you find your gaze sliding to remus, how strained his smile looked and wonder if he’s thinking the same.

he looked back at you, as he always does, and smiles gently. less strained now. like he was resigned.

you try to imagine if the circumstances were a bit different and he would find someone to love. someone to marry.

you feel your navel, coil in a bundle of nerves. a tension in your neck making you almost irate.

he gestured for you to follow him out.

like being compelled and weak, you follow without a question.

the night air was chilly, and feeling some sort of static on your skin, like building an unnerving suspense.

remus just sat and gestured for you to sit beside him.

the seat was cold, and you sat rigid like ice.

it’s been a while since you’ve last sat with remus like this. the order keeping all your hours occupied, mission after mission. surviving by the skin of your teeth.

all the world has gone fucked now, it didn’t feel quite real some time—like some sort of veil has just been pulled over your head making you see things clearer for the horrors awaiting your fates.

and in your mind loud with noise and worry, you almost didn’t hear him.

“why don’t we do it?”

“what?” you turn to him, hoping his face show an inkling, a clue as to what he had said.

he looked at you then, eyes still so warm even with the atrocities he’s faced and eyes still so bright in the night. a twinkling light reflecting in his eyes making him look younger. prettier.

“why don’t we get married?”

you lean back slightly in shock, “what?” you repeated, because you didn’t understand. this came so suddenly, words weirdly familiar but the intent wildly different than from all the others you’ve heard before.

you looked at his eyes. searching, still, for a clue or something that might make sense because what?

he laughs, the warm, soft sounding one you can barely hear. but it was just the two of you outside and it was quiet and you were sitting so close, so you hear it—loud and clear. the sound making you feel warm. “is that so crazy?”

he looked like a boy, happy and hopeful. his leg was pressing into your thighs again. the pressure grounding you.

his hands fidgeting deep within his pockets.

“i think we work well enough.” he added, with a small smile.

you feel something in your heart stutter, “work well enough,” you repeated. “glad to know i reach your standards for a bride, sir lupin.” you almost scoff. masking the bitter simmer of disappointment of his reason. and the coiling nerves still tightly wound in your navel, feeling heavy, making it harder to breathe.

he shrugs, “well you know, a lot of applicants have been killing themselves to be chosen. i reckon you ought to feel honoured.” he grinned over to you, still joking.

you rolled your eyes, “of course,”

“yeah?” he perked up, suddenly sitting straighter, his knees bumping into yours in his haste to look at you properly. “you want to?” he seemed shocked, overtly so, that it makes you laugh. a heat blooming on your face at his apparent willingness to marry you before shaking your head to avoid any confusion.

“no to the proposal but yes, that it is indeed an honour.”

he deflates, “ah,” he said softly, before laughing like he was embarrassed. “i just—i kept thinking what james said, about tomorrow not being promised—and, i, well i thought—“ he clears his throat before continuing. “i thought i might see what the fuss was about,”

you nodded, “‘m afraid marriage isn’t so simple. you have to love one another for a start.” you added somewhat bitterly, looking away.

“so you keep reminding me,” he says, laughing awkwardly.

fifth time at 38 years old;

you feel as if your life was reaching a crescendo.

the night glooming, brooding like the sky knows to colour it of fear and nerves.

it was going to come down to tonight, so it seems. whether we win or we lose. the end or the beginning. all those families we’ve lost and the families we’ve created. all our hopes and dreams sacrificed into this one night.

“you feeling alright?” remus asked to your left.

the glooming sky somehow illuminating his face all the same.

“as alright as anyone can be when facing a dark wizard.” you smirked, shrugging.

he laughs, still sounding so warm and soft.

you feel his fingers brush yours. you had half a mind to remind him to get ready and hold his wand tight.

you notice how keeps forgetting to do that. opting to hold unto you, just like he did before when he was a child from another time.

he only offers a closed lipped smile, looking at you the same way he has always looked at you. his stare the most familiar thing, it might as well be a part of you.

“i love you.” he breathed. and your heart hammered, your world tilting on its axis. shifting the very fabric of your universe.

and he looked relieved like he couldn’t wait to hold unto it any longer. and then he repeated it. more sure. louder. affectionate. looking straight into you. his brilliant, soft, warm eyes so full.

you wonder when did his gaze start to look at you like that?

and then you see;

his eyes looking as it did when he was five, shining with obvious awe.

his eyes when he was eleven, with resolute determination.

eyes when he was seventeen, glinting with mirth in the dark crevices of the dorms.

the look he gave you when he was nineteen, looking so boyishly happy and hopeful.

and now as he’s thirty-eight, looking at you with so much love, and longing, and pain, and joy.

“when this is all over,” he breathe, “will you marry me?”

so much time has passed by now that you had once thought it was too late for you. too late with him. something you always thought but could never have.

he was now undeniably a man. arms littered with scars and unwavering confidence as he looks at you. but his eyes still glimmer and twinkle all the same.

the undeniable rampage in your chest, your eyes searching for an answer or a clue for what he’s thinking.

“i love you,” he repeats, and gazing at you with that familiar eyes of his.

and you laugh because you found your answer. so you’ll give him his.

“yes.”

extra;

the battle was brutal, bodies piled on top of one another. those too young to know what they even fought for. those for their own ideals. and those caught in cross fires.

but it was over. and the good guys won.

but with so many lost, people thought, how could i possibly cheer?

but there was this type of solace when you’re gone. there was no more pain. all those gone can only do one thing, to let go. at least that’s what harry thinks.

staring down at the family he could’ve had.

your limp cold hand holding remus’ equally cold ones.

he wonders if someone intertwined your hands, or if you simply died holding on to each other. never to let go.

he realized it didn’t really matter. you were both gone. forever, together.

he thinks of the comforting hugs you’ve given him in the short time you’ve spent with him, and the many stories remus told. and in this fierce pain he wonders if you ever saw the shiny, glinting ring in remus’ dresser hidden away ever since he was eighteen.

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just know that it's because of this reblog that i've started quizzing myself and trying to tell fred and george apart and i'm slowly getting there after a few hours (A FREAKING RECORD I'M TELLING YOU) and i'm slowly realizing that i'm actually a georgie girl holy shit (in a good way) AND I JUST WANNA TELL YOU THAT THIS HELPED ME LIKE FOR REAL FOR SURE like i don't know why but i just know that it's not in my intellectual capacity to actually realize what i should've done sooner had it not been for this so for that, i hope you like a cookie because here you go 🍪 THANK YOU SM LOVE I APPRECIATE THIS A TON YOU'VE NO IDEA

i’m horrible with faces as am i with names. question, how do you differentiate george from fred and fred from george? i've watched the movies a plenty of times enough but i’m still as confused as i was the first time i’ve watched it. care to help a gal out?

[eveningflickr]

i’m horrible with faces as am i with names. question, how do you differentiate george from fred and fred from george? i've watched the movies a plenty of times enough but i’m still as confused as i was the first time i’ve watched it. care to help a gal out?

[eveningflickr]

“No,” Bradley interrupts, grinning indulgently. “But that’s because I haven’t got as sweet a face as you do.” ㅡ you've got a face that's definitely panty-dropping bradshaw, let me tell you lest you don't know 😤

“sometimes the urge to punch you is unbelievably strong” prompt with rooster! where reader and him are best friends since childhood, following the same career path and such but he didn’t understand the different difficulties of being a woman in the navy etc. basically you’re in love with an idiot but he apologizes and mayhaps confession? 👀

omg yes !!! such a roo move, i love this 🫶

“It’s not the same, though.”

“Of course it is.”

“Rooster.” You cut him a reproachful glare. “No it absolutely isn’t.”

Bradley frowns up at you from his spot on the tarmac, beads of sweat rolling along the slant of his brow. He’s perspiring heavily, on press-up seventy of a hundred.

“Why not?” He grunts bemusedly, lowering his torso down before pushing up again. Above you, the afternoon sun is relentless, bathing his muscles a sweltering, crimson hue. Large muscles. You blink.

“Because,” you respond distractedly, tearing your eyes away before they get you into trouble. Too late. You’re already thinking about Bradley’s stupid, large muscles encircling your waist. “You’re… you don’t have as much to prove as I do, alright? I started off at a disadvantage, and I’m fighting like hell to bridge the gap that it created.”

Bradley blinks away fresh droplets of sweat and squints up at you, reasonably perplexed. “What are you talking about?” He pants, continuing his press-up assail. Twenty-five more to go, though they’re entirely unnecessary, given the circumstances.

If he’d just listened to you earlier, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

Of course, when you’re a man on the force, you can afford to make silly mistakes. You can afford to think with your heart and not your brain; if your decisions are based on vengeance, no one tends to bat an eyelid.

Not like when you’re a woman. It isn’t being ‘too emotional’ when it’s primal and testosterone driven.

“C’mon, Bradshaw,” you sigh, scrubbing your cheek tiredly. “You and me, we just aren’t the same.”

“Right,” Bradley heaves, doing a few more press-ups before continuing, “because you’re smarter, and meaner, and a whole lot more accomplished.”

He makes quick work of his last ten before collapsing onto the tarmac, leaving the asphalt a darker shade of grey when he rolls over. Once on his back, he props himself up onto his elbows, breathing hard through lungs that feel as though they’re bleeding. “Not to mention,” he pants playfully, trying for a jibe. “You’re the one Admiral Simpson likes to call darlin’.”

“Exactly,” you say exasperatedly, throwing your arms in the air. “Why d’you think does that, genius?”

Having paid for the consequence of his own misdemeanour, he’s now able to more freely take inventory of your features. The sun creates a golden halo around your silhouette, making your bare limbs glow, something reverent about it. Bradley’s Adam’s apple shifts apprehensively as he swallows. It tends to do that every time he’s struck by your pretty features.

“Uh.” The sternness of your tone tells him it’s a trick question. He takes a tentative pause, more asking than answering. “Because… you remind him of his daughter?”

You frown hard, folding your arms across your chest instead. “Bradshaw.”

“Damn, uh,” Bradley balks, straightening up fully and scratching the back of his neck, “because he… because you’re his favourite aviator.”

“You know,” you say humourlessly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Sometimes the urge to punch you is unbelievably strong.”

You send him one last glare before turning on your heel, already a few feet away when you hear him scramble to his feet.

His muscles may be aching with exhaustion, but the hankering in his ribcage is proving far more unbearable. The distance grows, and his heart begins to pull. He hates watching you walk away. He hates it almost as much as he does the thought of you not turning back to him.

“Hey — no, shit, wait,” He calls out urgently, breaking into a run. He’s breathing heavy by the time he’s caught you up again, and it’s warm on your skin, his body-heat like an embrace. “I’m sorry. Seriously. What am I missing?”

You halt your paces reluctantly, turning your head to face him. “No way,” you frown, looking over his features exasperatedly. “You really don’t know, huh?”

“Total idiot, remember?” He says, grinning sheepishly. He nudges your shoulder with his, and there’s a transfer of warm sweat from rough skin to something softer. “You’ve always been the smart one.”

“And the girl,” you add, sending him a meaningful glance.

Bradley’s jaw slackens as realisation dawns, and he grimaces, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Right. Of course.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, his chagrin removing any fire. Replacing it with something fonder. “You really are fucking clueless, you know that?”

“I do.” He lifts his head sagely, his brown eyes glinting with mirth. “Darlin’, I do.”

You roll your eyes, shoving him back playfully. “God,” you say, making a face. “Somehow, you agreeing makes this worse."

“C’mon,” Bradley argues then, raising his arms in surrender. “Battle of the genders aside, you can’t actually blame the Admiral for calling you something so sweet.”

You frown hard, a little defensive. “And why not?”

“I mean…” he trails off, gesticulating at your figure. There’s so much bare skin on display he’s about to have an aneurysm. Being in love with your pretty, unassuming best friend is like drawing every short straw imaginable. “You are one, aren’t you? A total darlin’. Hell, I tend to forget how badly you’d smoke me in the sky when you’re doing drills in this tiny little thing.”

He reaches forward and tugs the hem of your singlet for good measure, a rough jolt of skin-on-skin static.

“Rooster.” It’s hard to be angry at him when his sweet-talk’s turning your insides to goo. You fold your arms across your chest weakly, conjuring up the indignation you’d feel if it was Jake saying this to you.

It works a charm. “You can’t seriously be objectifying me too, right now,” you scoff, your traitorous cheeks beginning to burn. “I mean, this… this is exactly what I’m talking about! No one’s walking around telling you that they forget how good of an aviator you are because of your face, are they? And —”

“No,” Bradley interrupts, grinning indulgently. “But that’s because I haven’t got as sweet a face as you do.”

“Sure you don’t.” You scoff again, sending him a too-weak glare. “You know exactly the effect you have on women, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows, a question. “But do you?”

“Do I what?” You ask, frowning bemusedly.

“Know exactly the effect you have on men,” he answers, taking a step closer. His vetiver and musk cologne intermingles with sweat, pressing over you in waves. “On me.”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly, fonder now. “About before — about invalidating how hard it is for you on the force. That’s… I mean, you know that I think you’re a goddamn gift to aviation, right? I just seem to forget the obvious things when you’re around me.”

“Clearly,” you manage to whisper back, bright eyes widening.

“Because,” he adds, reaching up and cradling you’re jaw gently, “all my brain’s good for in those instances is telling me to do something stupid. Kiss you, or something.”

“Well,” you lean in a little closer, brushing your lips against his softly, “what’s stopping you Roo?”

When Bradley takes over, it’s a harder, teeth-scraping pressure, a little sloven, a lot impatient. More pressure than your poor heart can handle. He tastes like hot cross buns and spearmint, lips all sweet and bruised as they press over yours. A lot of ardour. Like he really has been thinking about this for longer than you have.

It makes your heart feel like it’s beating right out of your chest. When he finally does draw back, you’re flushed and out of breath.

“Christ,” he murmurs, thumbing over your kiss-bitten, bottom lip. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I was ten.”

You smile, all fond and giddy, and his heart pulls. “That long, huh?”

“Longer, probably,” he answers honestly, grinning in tandem. “But who knows what love is when they’re seven?”

[eveningflickr]

Hi writing queen can i request ^^ A, smiling like an idiot: “<friend name> I am so incredibly curious what exactly has B said about this mysterious person” B: “LETS CHANGE THE TOPIC-“ “well A, according to B they’re the best sex B’s ever ha-” “NO NO NO WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS” while A is just like so enthusiastic “no no PLEASE elaborate” with just a smug smile knowing that it’s about them with hangy

sorry it's so long ILY

omg this is soooo hangy 🤭 r’s call sign is Cosmo!

“Please,” Natasha groans, faux-sorrowful, “stop making that face.”

“Face?” You echo in a too-high voice, sitting up a little straighter. Your cheeks burn. “There’s no face.”

“Oh, there’s definitely a face,” Natasha returns, taking an appraising pull of her beer. She leans in close and presses the rim to your name-tag, condensation making the emblazoned letters shine. “It’s that mystery guy again, isn’t it? He’s taking over your goddamn brain.”

A pause. You pick at the broken edge of your thumb nail absentmindedly, trying to play it cool. Avoid looking in aforementioned guy’s direction.

If you do, let you gaze linger on the game of pool he’s dominating, Natasha’s sure to recognise your diffidence and call him over to your table.

And then, Jake Seresin will win. Like he always does. Like he did when you gave in and slept with him.

“No he isn’t,” you bristle, scowling weakly. No real fire to it. You tip back your beer to take a generous sip, and as you lift your head to do so, your eyes pull to Jake’s figure.

He’s smirking this stupid, pleased smirk that you should hate, a second away from sinking his last ball and taking the win. There’s a toothpick pressed against one corner of his mouth, his uniform sleeves taut where they hug his biceps. Really solid biceps. You blink.

Okay, so maybe you more than just gave in to your sexual ardour. Though you’ll vehemently deny it to anyone who asks, there’s a soft spot you harbour for smug assholes with a Southern drawl.

“Sure he isn’t,” Natasha scoffs, shaking her head exasperatedly. Her voice is loud enough, now, to carry over the clamour of patrons; as the game comes to a close, your fellow aviators begin to follow it.

Bradley pipes up first. “Who isn’t?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

Your eyes widen in a panic, and you turn to Natasha, something helpless about it. “No one,” you answer, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Natasha frowns, sending you a bewildered glance. “What? Is it some kind of secret now?”

“A secret, huh?” Bradley teases, bumping his shoulder against yours. “What kind, Cosmo?”

“Yeah, Cosmo,” Jake adds meaningfully, poking his tongue against his cheek. “What kind?”

His gaze skates over your figure with enough intensity to burn, the mild amusement on his features doing little to subdue your nerves. Asshole. He’s enjoying this more than he should.

“Don’t worry about it,” you answer primly, pretending to zip your lips and throw away the key.

Jake cocks his head to one side, his stupid, pleased smirk widening a little. “Oh,” he announces mock-solemnly, letting out a sigh. “It’s too late for that, darlin’. Consider me worried.”

“Me too,” Natasha says then, narrowing her eyes at Jake before continuing. “I mean — not to agree with something that’s come out of Bagman’s smug mouth, but you’ve been acting real out of character recently.”

You furrow your brow defensively, gaze flitting to Jake on instinct. “Have not,” you argue, trying for a scowl. Failing miserably. Jake’s scrubbing his hand over the side of his throat absentmindedly, and it’s reminding you of the bruises he’s left below your collar.

A little rough, a little sloven, an airtight seal to paint them deep amaranthine. You add, your voice uncharacteristically high, “I’m acting totally normal.”

Bradley frowns bemusedly. “What’s with the voice, Cosmo?”

“What —” you grimace when you hear it, clearing your throat significantly, “— what voice? There’s no voice.”

“Well shit,” Bradley wolf-whistles, looking at Natasha expectantly. “Tell us everything you know, Pheonix.”

“I don’t know very much,” Natasha grumbles, sending you a reproachful look. “Just that she met some mystery guy last week at the bar and had the best sex of her —”

“Phoenix,” you interrupt furiously, fixing her with a pointed glare. “We are not talking about this here.”

“No, Phoenix, really,” Jake says then, rolling his tongue over his toothpick with a grin. “Go on. Best sex of her…?”

“Seresin,” you warn, turning to face him with arms folded. “I’m serious.”

Jake takes a step toward you and nudges your forearm with his bottle, features mock-indignant but green eyes full of mirth. “What?” He asks, looking over you indulgently. Something fond about it. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Are we?”

Jake’s bottle, still pressed against your skin, acquiesces. As his hand falls to his side, it grazes along bare hip. The heat of his touch lingers. “I thought we were, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, softer.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Bagman was the best sex of your life? Seriously?”

You grimace. Jake doesn’t even flinch.

“I mean…” you trail off, looking over at Natasha helplessly. Beside her, Bradley’s sending you an incredulous look, his Adam’s apple bobbing against his throat, “…yeah?”

“Christ, and look at that fucking face,” she adds disdainfully, turning her nose up at Jake’s expression. You don’t have to glance up at him to presume it’s cockier than ever. All smug and self- assured with that crooked smirk that makes you —

“It’s so… you’re fucking blushing, Bagman.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you have to actively bite back a smile. Blushing? That’s new. Maybe you’re winning this as much as Jake is, after all.

“Fuck off, Phoenix,” Jake scowls, scrubbing his cheek before folding his hand over your waist. He pinches its curve playfully, faux-solemn when you glance up at him. “She’s delusional.”

“For sure,” you agree, grinning freely now. “Especially about that whole, best sex of my life thing from before. Definitely didn’t say that.”

Jake grins in tandem. “Sure you didn’t.”

“I’m serious, Seresin.”

“Yeah, Cosmo.” He kneads your skin indulgently, pulling you flush against him. “Seriously in love with me.”