I hate how the slytherin boys community completely ignores that Blaise exists. They constantly include made up and non-canon characters like Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire. They even include regulus, which I know heâs canon but he never once physically appears in the series or in the books. They all also include Theodore Nott, and yes heâs canon but he was only mentioned maybe twice in the books and once in the movies. And even when they do include Blaise itâs the most stereotypical interpretation of him. Or they change the face claim for him. Blaise Zabini is played by the handsome Louis Cordice, yet heâs always replaced by a light man with a looser curl pattern? In my own personal headcanon for him heâs quiet, tall, classy, and even royal in a sense. I would say I hate to play the race card but Iâd be lying. I absolutely believe itâs because they cannot fathom including a black canon character. And even when they do they stereotype him. If youâre going to do SLYTHERIN BOYS, include the ACTUAL slytherin boys. Not just the white ones that you like.
[looking at people younger than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at people older than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at myself] its over
btw it's so fucking stupid you can be anxious physically in your body even after you've decided mentally you don't care. I'm supposed to be in charge here
A/N: this is one of the first times iâve written for blaise, and the very first time iâm posting something for him.
written for blaiseâs banquet. thank you to @i-await for hosting it!!
warnings: mild sexual content
⊠who has always claimed to be driven to the brink of insanity by you. You would never leave him and your brother alone when they made the mistake of coming over with you in the house. You'd always hover near wherever they were hanging out, asking questions and lingering in the background until they were forced to acknowledge your presence. At first Blaise would try to ignore it, but then he would start never leaving you alone. Just to get back at you.
⊠who would surprise you with how sharp-tongued he could be when he wanted, especially since he always seemed more reserved than your brother and his annoyingly loud friends. His well-timed snide remarks effortlessly countered any retort made to him without so much as a glance. With anyone else, you'd find it aggravating, but with him, you were oddly fascinated.
⊠who would start looking for you whenever he visited your house, or when he hung out with your brother in the common room at Hogwarts. It was out of habit more than anything. He'd find excuses to walk by the kitchen, where you might be making tea, or suggesting they go up to see Pansy in the girls' dormitories. Maybe he'd see you.
⊠who never noticed you, not really, until one day you weren't there and he suddenly found himself much more bored and irritated than he had any right to be. His friends noticed his sour mood, but he didn't tell them it was because he hadn't seen you today. You were studying in the library, or so your brother said. He walked by there on the way back to his dorm, just because.
⊠who keeps an eye on you, even when he shouldn't. He's always watching you when you leave for class, and what you do during the day, and what you talk about during dinner. At one point he thinks he has your entire wardrobe memorized because of how often he finds himself staring at you. No one notices, though, not even you or so he thinks.
⊠who is jealous when you talk about your encounters with other boys, even though he doesn't have any reason to be. He hates the way you smile when you say one boy's name, even though you never mention him past Date #2. He wants to be the one you're going to Hogsmeade with. He wants to be the reason you're choosing your shortest skirt despite it being the middle of winter.
⊠who never felt like he could pursue anything at all with you and it makes him furious. Your brother had made it very clear what he thought of his friends dating his sister, so Blaise didn't even want to bother. But he did; he wanted to so badly. Then he started to think you wanted him too, and that made everything so much more dangerous.
⊠who began to leave you little signs in hopes you would see and understand them. A rose slid under your door. The notes you missed from Transfiguration. Andâ far more daringlyâ an unsigned note wishing you luck on your Alchemy exam. He was the only one you'd told that you were worried about it.
⊠who realises, suddenly, that you know he's the person behind these strange little gifts. And that you are doing absolutely nothing to dissuade him. If anything, with the knowing looks and sly smiles you're giving him when your brother's back is turned, you are encouraging him.
⊠who cannot, absolutely cannot keep his eyes off your ass when you dare to wear a short skirt one day. He's distracted in the common room when he's talking with his friends. He can't focus during dinner and pretty much forgets to eat when he sees you walking in. He point-blank ignores everyone in the library in favour of looking across the room to where you're sitting, your skirt nearly revealing the curve of your ass and the smooth skin of your inner thighs. Fuck, he's hard.
⊠who finally gives into temptation like he's been dying to for weeks when you come down into the common room in the middle of night. He'd been sitting there, staring at the fading embers of the fire and trying to forget the image in his mind of the curve of your ass as you'd bent down to pick something up earlier in the library. Your voice had pulled him out of his daydream and into what very well might be a dream come true.
⊠who doesn't resist at all when you place a tentative kiss on his lips, and instead hauls you into his lap and kisses you like his life depends on it. To hell with the consequences, he decides, because Merlin knows he can't go a lifetime without your touch now that he's felt it.
⊠who agrees, reluctantly and yet wholeheartedly at the same time, to keep this development a secret. He can't tell your brother, nor can he give you up. Even if that means sneaking around and muffling your moans with his hand when you can't be caught.
⊠who takes fiendish delight in the way he's able to tease you with a slight graze of his hand against your ass or a reassuring hand on the small on your back when leading you into dinner, and watches you fumble for an excuse when your brother concernedly asks what's wrong.
⊠who lets you wear his jumper as long as you promise to give it back before anyone sees you wearing this. You forget, of course, and then have to hastily explain you put it on by accident and didn't know it was his. Your brother is suspicious, and so you and Blaise resolve to be more careful from now on. Naturally, you're not.
⊠who sneaks up to your room every night he can, kissing you breathless and dragging his hands drunkenly down your body because he'd been resisting doing just that all fucking day. You do the same to him.
⊠who eventually decides he doesn't give a damn about what your brother thinks and kisses you in front of all his friends.
blaise's banquet | songfic - affection BETWEEN FRIENDS
Blaise and you never spoke about what was happening. It was better this way, going about it without forcing a spotlight onto your problems. The routine beginning, the late nights laying on the floor, always starting with light chatter and ending up with empty bottles scattered everywhere along with your clothes.
There was no cohesive plan to whatever this arrangement, it was just a way to fill the loneliness in you both, that refused to be admitted. Blaise an only child, and while his mother never abandoned him unlike the mysterious disappearances of his father figures. He felt like a dragon. Surrounded by unimaginable wealth. Guarded, cold, beautiful but truly alone.
It was too easy to drown silently by the swarm of older siblings and all their dazzling achievements that came before you. What was the point when it everything had already been done. It was just easier to pretend you didn't belong, weren't truly related. A forgotten treasure that hid at the bottom of the sea, buried underneath the shipwreck.
The two of your limbs tangled together like puzzle pieces, with kisses that softened the wounds just enough to help stop the bleeding. The nights in each arms were never enough to heal the emptiness carved out of your hearts, that didn't matter you only needed a little bit of affection.
You arrive early afternoon, sun warm on your skin. He helps you out of your clothes, eyes dragging over you as he lets out a low whistle. âLook at you⊠damn, my love. How am I supposed to behave myself all day?â He smirks at you as he peels off his own shirt and throws it onto your bag, standing there in his swim trunks looking far too good.
The water is perfect. You swim for hours. He lifts you onto his shoulders just to launch you back into the sea, laughing at your squeals. You play shark, chasing each other until he or you catch the other, he can't help pulling you close for a wet, salty kiss before dunking you under water. Every soft hug turns into playful chaos, hands always on you, making sure you come up laughing and breathless.
He insists on playing mermaids âIâm a very serious mermaid, donât laughâ, shows off his dive moves, and keeps finding new ways to make you smile.
Eventually you return to the towels. While you hunt for seashells, he grabs his camera and starts snapping pictures, hyping you up the whole time. When he catches the shot of you, his face lights up.
He stares at the screen, dramatically clutching his chest. âNo no no, you donât understand. This is it. I need this picture tattooed behind my eyelids. In my brain. In my heart. Youâre perfect.â
Your cheeks burn, but he just shakes his head, completely serious. âIâm setting this as my background everywhere. I need everyone to see my girl.â
The rest of the afternoon melts away, sharing snacks and ice cream, headphones in as you listen to music together. The sun slowly sinks while you stay tangled up on the towel, sandy, and stupidly happy.
this is BLUE
Created by Bug đŁ | @voidofsunlight
Please do not translate, copy, or repost my work.
You arrive as the sun sets and the lights turn the whole place into a glowing dream. Music is loud, the air smells like popcorn, cotton candy and carnival foods, Blaise is already buzzing with energy.
You ride everything. He screams bloody murder on the roller coaster, loud, dramatic, and completely on purpose.
At the game stalls you hype him up the whole time, cheering when he wins you the biggest plushies of course he does.
The night ends on the Ferris wheel. Blaise pulls you close, one arm wrapped around you, the other hand gently holding yours. He kisses you softly, then rests his forehead against yours.
âIâm so thankful to be your boyfriend,â he whispers, voice low and sincere against the noise of the carnival below. âBest nights of my life are the ones I spend with you.â
this is PINK PURPLE
Created by Bug đŁ | @voidofsunlight
Please do not translate, copy, or repost my work.
You wake up to soft golden sunlight spilling across the sheets and the quiet sound of him already in the kitchen. Heâs squeezing fresh fruits for you, humming something low under his breath. When you pad in, he greets you with a slow morning kiss and a glass of juice made with love.
Showering together is lazy and familiar, warm water, him brushing his teeth while you wash your hair, switching places with sleepy smiles and gentle touches. You pick out matching outfits.
Your Sunday ritual starts at the long street market you both love. Half flea market, half farmers market. You spend hours wandering hand in hand, digging through Vinyls and vintage finds. He buys you a worn book he knows youâll love. Later you fill your bags with fresh bread, local jam, and whatever else catches your eye for an improvised picnic.
He carries the blanket in his bag like always. In the park, you lay it out under the sun, unpack everything, and eat slowly while talking about nothing and everything. A little orange and white cat eventually wanders over and claims a spot between you two, purring as Blaise scratches behind its ears.
After eating, you nap in the warm light, your head on his chest, his hands on you to keep you safe. When you wake up, heâs already setting up his small travel palette. He paints you while you read the book he got you earlier, legs stretched across his lap, the soft breeze keeping you both cool. He doesnât say much, just glances at you with that quiet, focused look he saves for things he loves.
As the sun begins to set, painting everything in honey and gold, you pack up and walk home together, fingers laced, bags heavy with treasures and loving each other a little more in your own calm ways.
Hotel and Luxure with Blaise (sfw but with some suggestive touches)
Being loved by Blaise feels like this.
He doesnât need to rush. He never does. After the restaurant and the quiet shopping spree where his hand never left your lower back, he brings you to the suite he booked just for the two of you. No reason. No occasion. Just because he can, and because he likes spoiling you.
The room is bathed in soft lights. Deep colored roses. He runs you a bath, pouring in your favorite scented bubbles and favorite oils, then fills two glasses with rich Bordeaux wine. While you soak, he sits on the edge, shirtless, slowly dragging his big hands across your shoulders, pressing soft kisses along the curve of your neck.
No demands. Just devotion in the form of touch.
Later, he carries you to the bed still damp and glowing. The sheets are expensive, the candles still flickering. He lowers you gently and guides you so he can massages the tension from where your body aches, long, slow strokes, gentle pressure. Every now and then pampering kisses and tender bites on your spine letting his palms get a handful of your hips at times cause he can't help himself,.
You fall asleep under his hands, safe, spoiled, and completely loved.
Blaise Zabini, he was known as the closest friend to Draco Malfoy, always faded into the shadows while drama and childish chaos ensued. He didnât like getting mixed up with the arguments Malfoy constantly provoked from Potter and his little partners. Blaise rather preferred going about his day in a quiet manner before trying to get his friends out of detention.
Zabini was a rather tall young man, about the same height as Theodore Nott, reaching an imposing tallness of six feet and two inches (190 centimeters for my non-American readers)
And did that man love to flaunt his height around you, prompting a hum from his lips when you tried to sass at him, pretending the sound of your voice was too far away to even reach his ears. Oh, but when he bends down, staring directly into your eyes, your heart did far too many flips than youâd like to admit.
I believe Blaise is seen as a very regal and silent guy. He doesnât voice his every opinion like Draco, however many are careful when blabbing their mouths open around Zabini. Just a lift from his brow has the speaker regretting a slip of their tongue, wishing they could swallow their entire mouth down.
Blaise exhibits a quiet confidence, he knows who he is and where he stands, and his emotional stature isnât one that crumbles rather easily.
That isnât to say he does not have problems of his own. Blaise faces mental challenges every night, faceless silhouettes of men that fade into a dark wall, the newest husband edition replacing the old, one after the other; the same cycle continued as usual, leaving the Zabini family with riches galore.
For every husband his mother suddenly married, Blaise was introduced with new set of annoyances. One spouse talked far too much than his tongue could handle, and another man thought he was a clever fellow to marry as an attempt to steal his motherâs jewels. Meanwhile, a few treated Blaise like some peasant, and soaked in the fame that came with being labelled as the next Zabini husband.
âź â â a Blaise In Love
Blaise believes in a love that is built on mutual respect and trust. He knows you love him, and your words mean more to him than you realize. That isnât to say he wants a perfect lover, Blaise isnât asking for a person who has it all figured it out, insecurities and problems are normal for any couple. However, he just needs you to trust him through it all, know that he isnât disloyal or someone who would leave you for anyone else. Zabiniâs love isnât one that can be described with a simple âI love you.â
Rather, he shows it in the little things he knows about you. From the way he saves your favourite seat to how he refuses to let you needlessly carry your books around. They were all different forms of affection, and certainly only one portion of the bigger picture.
When night snuck into the skies, Blaiseâs hand would caress your hair like it was porcelain. Lulling you into sleep while leaving a kiss or two atop your head.
Blaise loved to jokingly call you âmâlady,â not that it was a joke to him, but the endearment âlove,â was used most often. Casually calling you âloveâ in the Academyâs hallways, using it to get your attention when someone was trying to speak to you, or simply saying it during what you both like to call âsweetie hours.â It was a time in the evening when the two of you would hide away from anyone and everything. Just finding a secret corner behind the castle or relaxing in the prefect dormsâones that Blaise has access toâwhilst reading a book together in bed, or completing a puzzle; whatever activities you did together during the âsweetie hoursâ was considered time well spent.
yuna's voicemail. Don't worry, I am working on those event asks, just some headcanons while i write them up!
